Battle's Cry
by I Edhellen Muinthil
Summary: GASP! CHAPTER 29! Sweet merciful Jebebus! We updated! A hopeful result of getting hit by a large moving vehicle...read on to find out! Some naughty words utilized. And definitely naughty thoughts written down in a manner which is rather...
1. Introducing Rhiannon

Disclaimer: We don't own Middle Earth or any other Tolkien creations, (Though we'd like to!  We really would!  Because then New Line would owe us some money and…alas, a false dream that more than likely will never come about.  But I maintain that Legolas is mine.  All you other fangirls will have to live up to the…what?  Oh…sorry.  No, Leggy's not mine either.  Damn.  But Lór, you said that I…grrrrrrrrrrrr). We're not earning anything by writing this story – unfortunately – which is simply for readers' enjoyment.  We hope.

A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated. We took the time to write this for you, it's only fair you take the time to tell us how good it is. *hee hee hee* : ) _~Lór_.  We also had a damn lot of fun with this.  So spoil our fun, and we'll go totally ass wonky.  That's a promise.

_Oh yes…I (I'm Lai) changed a bit around.  So if you read the original, this is more of a slightly better intro than the one we had before.  Hope you like. _

_And for those of you who have read my (I'm the Bride of Legolas, you know) other fic, Be Careful What You Wish For, I decided to be totally unoriginal and use the same name twice.  This IS NOT the same Rhiannon as is BCWYWF, which I'm attempting to write soon, I hope…so be patient._

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

**Rhiannon**

You know, darkness isn't really conductive to thought.  Sheesh; of all the things… "In the darkness I sit, surrounded by nothing except my thoughts."  That would make a good start to a book.  It would rapidly be followed by "How came I to be here?"  It's a good question.  Not something that can be answered readily, for I know not the answer.  I remember nothing.  Told you that darkness really wasn't conductive to thought.

            Time currently hasn't got any meaning.  Seconds, minutes…all the same…only the endless stretch of nothing that's surrounding me.  It's bloody dark.  Did I mention that I have dick-all capacity of night vision?  It's a pisser.

            Okay, I lied.  I remember the battle.  How could I forget that?  It's a farking battle!  Anyway, we – Fiona and I – charged the battlefield with our fierce cry, resounding against the sharp rock walls of Orodruin, striking fear into the heart of the Orcs gathered to oppose the Alliance.

            Okay…so 'Boobinator' isn't really a fierce cry.  But the Orcs didn't know that.

            Ah…more memories.  Battles suck.  If ever you find yourself stuck in Middle-earth, try your damnedest _not_ to get caught up in a battle.  It's not worth it.  Epic adventure rules say otherwise, but take it from me.  Avoid them!

            I don't know where Fiona – my twin of sprit – is, nor what fate she has suffered.  I awoke in this dark place.  Dungeons of Barad-dûr, perhaps?  It's certainly possible.  I mean, we did run full tilt at the damn thing, screaming our silly scream, the only word that came to our shared minds.  But if darkness is all they are…I can handle darkness.  Not too sure about torture, but darkness I can do.  For now.

            You know, talking to you – shadows, myself, whatever you are – is bringing back a whole bunch of memories.  I think I almost remember how this whole thing started.  Hmmm…

            I remember…oh yes.  Fe – that's Fiona – and I got it into our heads that we were going to join the Alliance and throw ourselves into glory and honour on the battle field, each felling a thousand orcs, coming out heroes, and then writing our experiences into the best fanfic ever to grace the internet.  Only one problem:  We're girls.

            In _modern_ times, this wouldn't be a problem, ours being the century of tolerance and equal rights.  But _no_!  This is Middle-earth!  Home of Sexism Anonymous.  You see, girls here cook and clean and do stuff like that.  Except Eowyn, Arwen and Galadriel, of course.  Pretty much, they're the only ones anyone ever hears about.  

            At any rate, Fe and I figured we'd make the most of it, because there really wasn't anything else to do.  I mean, after all that wishing and praying to get to Middle-earth, we end up in a time when the world is about to end.  Doesn't that just _suck_?  I'm _sure_, that if the world as these people knew it wasn't about to end, there'd be lots of other things to do.  Travel the country side, live in Rivendell…hook ourselves up with some damn hot Elves…

            Come to think of it, Elrond's pretty damn cute.  Bit of a hankering for purple, but…I like purple.  And it suits his eyes.  Very grey, they are.  Like stormy seas…

            Really though…I think Fe's got a hankering for Gil-galad.  Can't say that I blame her.  He _is_ pretty damned sexy, what with that whole kingly dignity, nobility and richness going on.  So's Glorfindel; _hot damn_, is he _beautiful_!  I sure hope to hell that he's not gay.

            Never let it be said that girls don't go for older men.  

            So…you must all be wondering how we got to Middle-earth in the first place.  Well, now that my memory's actually coming back, it's a long and involved story, that tells of fanfiction, chocolate, and a transport truck.  Actually, it's not that long and involved, but it was caused by fanfiction, chocolate and a transport truck.

            Fe and I are best friends.  You won't find a pair closer than us except for conjoined twins.  We practically _are_ conjoined twins.  Except for the fact that we're not actually related in any way.  

            I, though you wouldn't know it to look at me – hah! – am actually the elder.  By five months, exactly to the day.  Of course, Fe's got all the height, Elf-like grace – riiiiight – and blondness of the pair of us, and me, I'm short and brunette, like Welsh people are supposed to be.  Whatever.  Point is we're as close as identical twins can be without the physical twinning.  And we were born on separate sides of the world.  But that is beside the point.

A/N:  There is more…don't worry.  We wouldn't leave you hanging…that wouldn't be nice…hee hee hee hee hee!!!  

    ~Lai


	2. Introducing Fiona

Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter. We don't think you need to read it all over again. Nothing's changed. Tolkien's stuff still ain't ours…

********************************************************************************************************************************************

**Fiona**

  Have you ever had something happen that was so freaky, and you were so glad that it didn't happen to you? Like watching that hunky surfer dude get eaten by a shark while he's surfing? Or that bitchy girl at school fall down the stairs, making a complete fool of herself and waking up with all four limbs covered in plaster, a nose that will be permanently stuck at an odd angle? Damn, it sounds just too good to be true!

  Probably 'cause it isn't. Sorry, I drifted off dreaming again. I'm had some really weird dreams lately…watching my best friend get run over by a semi-trailer in a completely quiet back street, and the misfortune to watch as she got transported to Middle Earth. No shit- I swear it's all true!! You know how I know it's true? 'Cause I got run over by the semi trailer too. I was with her the whole time. 

  Middle Earth is a beautiful place, you know? And it's not hard to figure out where you are- just ask one of the dozens of people fleeing from the ugly bunyips or whatever they were- orcs, as I found out later. Of course, I didn't know where I was at the time, so my ignorance is understandable. Anyhow, all you have to do is wait until the orcs shoot one of the poor running sods down, and then they run on without noticing you standing behind a knee-height rock before you dash out to the dying person, grabbing his shirt and saying desperately… "Where the fark are we?"

  The guy opens his mouth and replies, "Tell Hathor that I love her…"

  The moment is incredibly sad, sweet and sickening as the guy's head falls back and his eyes glaze over and you know he's dead. There's complete silence, though you can hear the rest of the buggers around you screaming in pain, and you're left thinking, 'Who the heck is Hathor?'

  Rhiannon- that'd be my best friend- picks up another dying man's tunic and pulls him up to her face, as he's screaming, drool, bleeding in the mouth and yells at him, "JUST TELL ME WHERE THE HELL WE ARE!!"

  This guy's a little more co-operative. "I don't know! Nobody taught me-" 

  "A general answer would be good," Rhiannon says falsely sweet.

  "That I do know- Middle Earth. Now will you-" He begins to choke and then becomes a deadweight- pun not intended- in Rhiannon's hands, so she drops him.

  "Middle Earth," we repeat in unison.

  Now I suppose you want to know how it is that we got hit by a semi-trailer truck? Well, Rhiannon and I had walked down to the shops- by the way, she was at my house, and the rest of my family had gone out shopping, leaving us to type our crap at home (hey, we were 18 years old! They can trust us!)- to get some chocolate…the perfect inspiration for fan fiction writing.

   We were walking home; it wasn't dark- nobody walks the streets after dark in my area…too many pricks out and about at that time. So we were on our way back, the house in sight, crossed the road…thinking back now I remember hearing a car or something coming, but I assumed it was going to turn into one of the other streets, and I was more interested in the funny story Rhiannon was telling me (can't remember what it was now…that happens when you get run over), so when I heard the horn, I stopped and stared up at the oncoming truck, frozen in place like a kangaroo entranced by the headlights of the car about to smash into it.

  Just to clarify a few points, yes I'm Australia. No we don't say "G'Day, Mate" to everyone we see. In fact, we're more likely to them to "get the f*** out of the way, dickhead" or "Move over, granny, the road is for people who can DRIVE"…back to the main event. Standing there and not moving- Rhiannon in much the same situation, I imagine- we added ourselves to the long list of "Roadkill".

  Surprisingly, death didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It's the dying that's painful, and given the speed of the truck, dying didn't take very long.

  We saw the ambulances arrive, long after the truck had driven off…at last, I had my answer to the question "do truck drivers really use pedestrians as yet another speed bump?"

  Anyhow, a couple of my more friendly neighbours were with us, afraid to touch us- I don't touch roadkill either…you've no idea where it's been- and the ambulance people came and tried to save us, but ended up declaring us dead. Rhiannon and I were watching this- spirits do watch over the real world you know. But at the time, we weren't entirely sure.

  When the paramedics gave up and covered us with those white sheets you always see them putting on dead people in movies, and put us on the ambulances, I could only think of one word. 

  'Damn.'


	3. They Always Said I Was A Jack Russell At...

            Fanfiction has always been one of our passions.  Sure beats the hell out of making up whole new universes when you've got the urge to write, but don't have the time to plan out an entire world and characters, and little anthropological details of cultures and what not.  Tolkien's work is amazing; he'd probably go totally spastic to know what we've done to his work, but…we have to offer an apology to wherever he is and hope he won't haunt us later, and then continue on with the story.

            Speaking of getting on with the story…crikey…you _are_ impatient, _aren't_ you Mr. Shadow-man?  Get a grip!

            As I was saying, fanfiction is one of our many shared passions.  Hankerings, if you will.  Really; once you start writing it, you can't stop.  Always new ideas and plots, thinking of how someone else's point of view would change everyone's perceptions…that sort of work takes chocolate, and lots of it.  And one must prescribe to a certain amount of what I call fan-girl-ism.

            That's the fanfiction and chocolate…now you're wondering where the transport truck comes in?  I thought you might be.

            It was on an excursion to the local store – we both went, due to the fact that there's jerk-off's about who I really didn't want messing with my twin, and she didn't want messing with me.  I know some karate (I hope), and I've got a really big knife that I picked up when I first got here, so it's all good – that the transport truck comes in.  

            There was no one about.  I mean _no one_.  Not even the jerk-off's I was referring to earlier.  At least, we didn't see anyone.  We were being pretty loud and giggly, being hyped up on chocolate and caffeine and the general excitement of me actually visiting, so it's possible we missed something.  

            Bet you think that we would have noticed two or three tonnes of metal and rubber hurtling towards us.  Nope.  Not a chance.  And even when we did see it, did we try to move?  Oh no!  We just stood there, like deer in the headlights, waiting to be hit by a truck.  

            Getting hit by a transport truck _hurts_.  I tell you this now in hopes that you might avoid such an event in your own lives.  Impact's got to be the worst of it.  The shock from that pretty much cancels out any feeling of weightlessness from flying through the air, or skidding along the pavement.  Or – as Fe told me later – finding out that truck drivers actually _do_ use pedestrians as speed bumps.  It's a pisser.  Don't let anyone tell you different.

            You know, I've always had a fear of death.  It's more of the unknown, actually.  Death is pretty much the only mystery that we haven't conclusively solved, except really for the depths of space, or the oceans – I'm betting there's some _huge_ farking squid down there – or why people still watch Jerry Springer.  But surprisingly – and Fe noticed this too, she told me – it didn't hurt all that much, lying there on the pavement, staring up into the sky that was blocked by the orange street lamps and then later by the faces of concerned neighbours.

            And then we were standing side by side and watching everything, the arrival of the ambulances and them working on saving us for a while before giving up and calling in the coroner and pronouncing us dead.  And then putting us in body bags and stuffing us in the back of the ambulance, off to the morgue, maybe have and autopsy done…usual stuff.  Unless they've got those regulations that say that they can't do an autopsy until the parents okay it…which is good, because I sure as bloody damn hell don't want myself cut up and have my innards looked over.  Whatever.  

            At that time though, my thoughts weren't really on where I was going next – reincarnation, hell, heaven, whatever – but really on how much of a rip off this was.  I was eighteen years old, for crying out loud!  Getting hit by a truck is _not_ what I had planned at all!  I was going to travel, and learn, and…gah.  Nothing can be done about it now.  We're dead in that life.  Or whatever.  No going back.  

            Which I suppose is another problem with us two writing the best fanfic ever to grace the internet.  We're dead.  Forgot to mention that bit…oops.

After a bit, I closed my eyes, opened them again and…

            Boom.  Well, not really boom, but I found I could speak again and speak I did.  Fiona was standing right next to me, and guess where we were?  Not Middle-earth; not yet, anyway.  We were in a tunnel.  And there was a light at the end of it.

            "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"  First words out of my mouth after getting hit by a truck.  

            Fe looked around.  "No kidding!" was her comment.  Which just goes to show you that we think along the same lines.  I mean, honestly!  Of all the things, the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't the one we were expecting.  It's been so over used…you'd think they'd come up with something original.  Whoever 'they' are.    

            "That better not be a train," I added.  "Getting hit by _two_ large machines is not my idea of a vacation."

            We paused for a moment and listened, hearing nothing but the echoes of our breaths.  We were breathing?  What for?  If we're dead, why do we still need to breathe?  The light didn't get any closer, and there wasn't any sound of approaching trains.  This was a good thing. 

            After we were silent for some time, I could feel myself starting to get a little fed up with this.  Dying is never fun.  Unless…well, I could think of some good ways to go…  Either way, I get annoyed very easily, and at the moment I was near to pissed.  Having your life cut off suddenly can do that to you.

            "Alright." I said after a bit.  Fiona looked at me and got that look in her eye that she always gets when I'm about to do something stupid.  "I've had enough of this.  I've been ripped off, and I want justice.  Where's my maker?" I shouted.  When no answer was forthcoming, I stomped off down the tunnel towards the light, Fe with nothing to do but follow me.

            I paused just before stepping into the light, looking back the way we came into darkness.  Fe stopped beside me.  

            "If you're going to hell, I'm coming too," she said.  I found my anger and annoyance at not living past my eighteenth year dissipate at those words.  They were so sweet!  I felt the same way.  We are – were – twins, and twins stick together.  

            "Likewise."  I had the sneaking suspicion that we might be separated.  I grabbed her hand.  "Well, it's been fun.  If I don't see you again for eternity, drop me a line."

            She giggled, and I found myself giggling to, at the absurdity of it all.

            "Well," she said.  "See you on the other side."  I noticed that she hadn't let go of my hand, and that I really didn't want to let go of her.  My fear of the unknown returned, and I really didn't want to be alone in this.  With a deep breath – I still haven't figured that out…we were dead, for crying out loud! – we stepped through…

            …And emerged in the middle of a war zone.  

            "What the – " I used one of my more expressive words.  I save those for truly surprising circumstances or instances of frustration.  This was definitely one of them.  Was this some sort of purgatory?  Or an even bigger rip off than dying young?

            I fixated on the latter of the two options.  It made me angry again, and kept my mind working where surprise would have shut me down.  There were people screaming all around, and I happened to notice why a moment later.

            You know, someone should really keep a lid on their breeding, because that was about the only reason I could think of as to why these creatures exist.  Orcs, I found out, is what they are, but that wasn't until much later.  We watched one shoot some poor bugger, and then run by us.  Fe and I ran out and she grabbed the guy as he crumpled.

            "Where the fark are we?" she yelled.  Good going, Fiona.  A man's dying in your hands and you ask him where we are.

            "Tell Hathor that I love her," he whispered and then died.  

"Shit."  She let go and he dropped to the ground.  "How rude.  Just because he'd been shot, doesn't mean he had to go and die before he told us where we were, at least.  It's not as though we really know anyone named Hathor, or where she would live even if we did.  We don't even know where we are, which is why we were asking."  She ended sarcastically and nudged the carcass with her foot.  Well, I say 'nudged'.  Really, it was 'kicked'.  

            I was getting annoyed again.  This was stupid.  I got hit by a truck!  A bloody damn transport truck, in a back-roads suburb in the middle of farking _Melbourne_!  What the bloody hell was a _transport truck_ doing in the middle of a back-roads suburb?  Riddle me this, I tell you!

            I stood, stewing in my anger, until I spotted another guy who might help us.  I marched up to him, grabbed him by the tunic, and asked, politely, where we were.

            "JUST TELL ME WHERE THE HELL WE ARE!!"

            Okay, so that wasn't really 'asked', but…well, I was annoyed.  And these people really _couldn't_ be dying, because we died – even went through the whole light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel bit and came out here – and they weren't re-emerging back wherever the hell we were.  And these guys were apparently locals, so I figured they would know.

            He wasn't all that helpful.  "I don't know!  Nobody taught me-"

            "A general answer would be nice," I growled.  Yes, growled.  Through clenched teeth too, if you really want to go totally cliché. Fe said later that I was 'falsely sweet'.  I don't know…I'm sure I growled.  Either way, the dying guy was a little bit more helpful.

            "That I do know: Middle-earth.  Now would you-" He didn't get much further because he chocked on something gross and died, slumping against his tunic.  I dropped him too.

            The pair of us were silent for a moment, watching the carnage, and being completely ignored by everyone and everything, including the rampaging…what was that word Fe used?  Bunyips?  What the hell is a 'bunyip'?

            "Middle-earth."  We said it in unison, and with the same inflection.  Don't let anyone ever make you think that we're not actually twins, despite the history already laid out for you.  We are.

            We paused a moment more before – shock, I think – before once again speaking in unison.

            "Shit."

            Okay, so that's how we got to Middle-earth.  I would have said 'here', but at the moment I don't know where 'here' is.  I'll have you know, once we found out who it was, I marched right up to the head guy in charge and demanded what the hell was going on.

            He had wings on his head.  Granted they were part of his helmet, but they were still wings.  Wouldn't want to be running through a forest with that helmet on.  The wings would probably get caught on every branch within a two-foot radius.

            He was shouting orders to other men with wings on their heads.  That's how we picked him out as the one to go to with our problem of being stuck in this place.  Well, not really stuck.  We'd been Tolkien fanatics for a rather long time now, and had wished and prayed to get here, even if it was fictional.  Now we were, but this really wasn't what we had in mind.  So I went to the first guy in charge I could find.

            "Excuse me," I said, all polite like.  He ignored us, so I turned up the volume.  "EXCUSE ME?"

            He stopped mid-sentence and turned around, no doubt to tell us to bugger off.  He spotted Fiona first – tall people usually do – and then looked down at me.  Crikey, but he was tall!  I'd have say about six five, without the helmet.  And he looked surprised.  What?  Had he never seen women before?  He recovered quickly; I must give him that.

            "What do you want?" 

            "You in charge 'round here?"

            "Yes."

            "Good.  We have a few bones to pick with you."

            "Look, I haven't got time for your peasant problems!  There's a war going on."

            I don't know about you, but I have issues with being called a peasant.  I'm sure most peasants are pleasant people, by when I think peasant, I think medieval times, and peasants back then didn't bathe.  I bathe, and quite regularly.  He turned back to his order shouting.       

            I turned to Fiona, and she took over.

            "Look buddy,"* she began.  "We're not supposed to be here, and if you're in charge, there must be some sort of -"

            "Then leave," the captain dude said, quite snarkily, I thought, not even turning back around to face us.

            I pulled Fe away before she could make too much of a scene and whispered in her ear.  Moments later we went back to the captain, me on Fe's shoulders.  

            "Yo!"

            He growled, like I had earlier, turning around.  And then I let him have it.  Pow!  Right in the nose.  Hah…he never saw it coming.  And whoa…did he ever topple!  Fell straight over backwards, landing in a clank of metal and armour.  He didn't move as Fe le me down.  Serves him right, calling us un-bathing peasants.  

            Matter of fact…he didn't move again.  Somehow, we'd managed to kill the man.  Or I did, seeing as how the whole thing was my idea, and I punched him in the nose.  Hey; they warned me about blows to the nose in karate class, how a badly aimed one – or a properly aimed one – could shatter the nose and drive the fragments up into your brain.  Guess that's what happened, because the dude never sat up or complained.

            "Shit."  Especially since there were now several of the winged hat guys, all looking rather annoyed and somewhat pissed because we'd apparently killed their captain.  

For crying out loud, _no_, I _don't _go around killing people who disagree with me!  That's rude.  But…honestly, I just wanted to hit him, and he was wearing armour.  Really.  That was all.

            Fe and I found ourselves backing up and ready to run when the captain guy sat up.  He was none too pleased, but his men were glad to see him alive, at least.  I wasn't.  I guess I thought that our chances would be better if he was dead.

            "You!" he said, pointing at me.  I did my best to look innocent.  "Take them!"

            I may be dead, but I have no intention of being caught by soldiers and likely raped, and I'm pretty sure Fe felt the same way, because we only shared a look before we both took off.

            There's a certain amount of predictability to this course of action, with two or three obvious conclusions.  One, we get captured, possibly raped, definitely dragged up in front of some head cheese and then executed for punching out some not so head cheese.  Two, we get away…and then do what?  It's not as if either of us actually know how to survive in the wilds.  Oh well…there's always cannibalism, but I'm going to have to be pretty damned hungry before I'll eat humans, especially refugees from a strange war.  No telling what sort of diseases they have.  Third possibility…we are shot down while attempting to escape, making it all nice and legal, because we were resisting arrest.  That, of course, is provided they have the same or similar laws about what 'resisting arrest' means.

            Or courts, for that matter.  Or anyone who would actually care.

            Turns out they just used lassos.  Wonder where they got those from, because I definitely remember that they didn't have them last time I checked.  Okay, so I've never checked.  But really…it seemed a bit convenient.

            You probably know this, but hitting the ground at high speeds hurts. A lot.  Fe and I knew this because we had just had an experience where hitting the ground at high speed hurt a whole hell of a lot.  Of course, having a sword at your throat hurts more, or at least, one would expect it to.  That metal is _cold_.  And sharp.

            The captain guy marched up to us – yes, he actually _marched_.  Not just a figure of speech – rubbing his nose and looking rather pissed.  Probably should have seen this coming, but…I was angry.

            "You!" he began.  "You…!"  He seemed incapable of saying anything more.

            "What's the matter?  Cat got your tongue?"  You would have expected us to keep our mouths shut, but this was another one of those 'freaky' – so say other people – instances where we say the same thing at the same time.  We shared a grin.  This was fun.

            Of course his face 'clouded with rage' as his 'anger built'.  Sorry…I write these things…using them is an entire different matter all together…makes me cringe, but there's really no other way to say it.  Just imagine!  "His face grew to resemble that of the underside of a cumulonimbus cloud formation as multiple synapses and hormones triggered the emotion known as 'anger' to increase within his mind and system."  Just doesn't have the same…

            Okay, okay!  I'll get back to the farking story!

            We got dragged before the head cheese, as promised.  Guy by the name of Isildur… Didn't like him much.

            He asked where we were from.  I said, "The Great Beyond."  Fiona giggled.  Actually, it was more of a snort, but…yeah, yeah.  You get the point.

            He asked what we were doing here.  Fe responded with "Beats the hell out of me, Hermes."  He had wings on his hat – er, helmet – too.  What is it with these guys and winged hats?  You could hurt someone with those things!

            He asked us where we got our clothes.  So we looked at our clothes; same ones we were wearing when we got ripped off of the rest of our lives.  I was wearing a skimpy purple number to show off my recently acquired toned abs, with the words 'Good kitties are bad kitties that do not get caught' silk screened onto it, with a glittery cat, and a pair of jeans.  Underclothes assumed.  Had a hard time reading the words from my angle though, on account of unfortunate placement of the pattern.  But that's part of the reason I bought the shirt.

            Fe, on the other hand, was wearing this conservative get up, didn't show much off, didn't hide much either, if you get the idea.  Looked good on her, I thought.  Jeans, and a t-shirt, and a comfy over-shirt-jacket-thing; perfect fanfic writing clothes.  Would have been wearing that too, if I hadn't thought that showing off my new abs would be fun, considering they've been 'flabs' for the longest time.  Again, hopefully, underclothes are assumed.

            This time we both answered this dude.  "The store." 

            "What store?"

            "Several, actually."  That was me.

            Isildur shook his head.  But this time, I figured he'd be pretty mad.  Apparently he was, because he poured himself a cup of what looked – and smelled – to be wine and drank it down.  And then crushed the cup, made of pewter, in one hand.  We wisely kept our mouths shut.  Eventually he managed to come back to where we were standing in his big tent, looking a great deal calmer.

            "You say you are from the 'Great Beyond'.  Came you from Númenor, our lost land?  Tell me!  Are you survivors from that great catastrophe?"

            Númenor…isn't that place that destroyed by the thingys because those guys wanted to go to that place?

            "Númenor…isn't that the island of Men that was destroyed by the Valar because the Men decided they wanted to go to Valinor despite being told not to bother trying?"  This was Fiona, resident _Silmarillion_ expert.  She'd read it; I had not, at least, not past the death of the Dark Elf dude, whatshisname.

            "Nope, haven't been there," was my contribution.  I shrugged.

            "Me neither," added Fiona.  "I just read about it."

            Poor guy looked so put out that I wanted to give him a hug.  

            "Then it is true.  We are the last of the blood of Númenor."  Don't know who 'we' referred to, but it wasn't us.  He seemed so sad when he added, "take them away.  Put them in one of the other tents.  But don't harm them!"

            Gotta hand it to the guy; didn't even know us, we drove him nuts, punched out his captain, but he still made sure we didn't get hurt.  That same captain that I decked took us – rather roughly, I thought – by the arms and frog marched us out of Isildur's tent.  And then proceeded to chew us out for being so rude to the prince.

            Prince?  What's _that_ got to do with anything?  He's just a regular Joe with a big hat.  But I didn't say that, because the captain was more than a little angry already and some self-preservation instinct told me just to keep quiet, so I did.  Don't know what Fe was thinking this whole time, but she had a rather blank expression on her face that told me of much inner mind goings-on.

            After a walk of a good distance – probably to put as much distance between us and his highness – the captain guy left us in a tent, had some food and drink brought to us, and posted a sentry just to make sure we didn't leave.  Like we wanted to stay here.  Although, I admit, it was better than spending the night outside, or in the middle of a war zone.

            As boring as it sounds, and as it was, there we stayed.  Thankfully, we had our first chance to talk about what had happened…and decide what to do next.

  


* * *


	4. If She Doesn't Shut Up, I'll kill her!

  "Shit."

  I looked at Rhiannon and suddenly realised something was different. "Since when did you have pointy ears?"

  If Rhiannon had been any other nut than the one I know her for, she would've looked at me strangely and start edging away. But instead she raised her hands to her ears, her eyes widening. "You're right- and you've got them too!"

  It was childish I know…but one minute you're human, then you're roadkill, then you're…pointy eared. I traced the point of my 'new' ears with curiosity, realising something else that should have been obvious before, but when avoiding being killed, just doesn't come to mind as the most important thing. "I don't remember wearing a backpack before..." I remarked, slinging it off my back.

  "We were carrying shopping bags," Rhiannon agreed, then grinned. "With chocolate."

  "Well, obviously coming here, to Middle Earth, we have changed…even if it is only slightly, and so our…" Damn, what a stupid theory. "Our shopping bags must have also."

  "Yay!" Rhiannon cheered. "As long as I've still got chocolate, it's all good…"

  She did. All seven blocks that she had bought at the store. She also had a beanie hat, gloves, tooth floss, a flute identical to her one back home, earplugs (oh the irony) and a beautiful evening gown. When she pulled the gown out from the bottom of the bag, the two of us gaping in awe, I noticed something fall onto the ground. I picked it up, and read the label before snorting, blushing and tossing them quickly to Rhiannon, like it was diseased or something.

  She looked down at it and her eyes watered, partly in embarrassment, partly in shock. "Condoms?" she breathed.

  I couldn't help giggling, it was so funny. "It makes you wonder what you're going to be doing that makes you require _those."_

  Her face was bright red. "Fuck that," she replied, quickly stuffing the box, the dress and other items back into the bag.

  "I imagine you'd much prefer a man."

  She glared at me, but I was still laughing, while red-cheeked myself. "Stop with the crappy puns."

  I continued to snigger.

  "Alright then. Let's see what you've got in your bag then?" she demanded.

  I stopped laughing. With a feeling of anxiety, I opened my backpack and took out the first item.

  "A pineapple!" Rhiannon giggled.

  "At least it's not a zucchini or a banana," I retorted, bursting out into giggles again.

  Along with a pair of earplugs, beanie hat and gloves for myself, the bag revealed that I also had a dog whistle, tin whistle (no, not like the PE teachers. It's almost like a recorder…comes from Irish Traditional music), a barf bag, coconut, bandages and…

  "HEE HEE HEE!" Rhiannon squealed.

  I didn't have a mirror, nor did I need one to know that my face was beetroot red right up to my pointy ears, as I looked at the lingerie I had just pulled from 'my' backpack. Several words came to mind in describing the various pieces of lingerie I had at the bottom of the pack. Alluring, attractive, revealing, kinky…

  "Sexy!" Rhiannon laughed without any concern for my feelings. "I wonder what you'll be doing that requires you to have _those."_

  I looked at the beanie hat and gloves, then down at my shirt. "Middle Earth. Women don't have any authority here. Nobody will listen to us." I remarked, non sequitor.

  "What?" Rhiannon blinked, coming out of her fit of laughter.

  I held up the beanie hat and gloves. "Coincidence that we both have a set of these? Coincidence that the hat will cover our Elven ears- and yes. That's what we are now. Elves. Although technically you're a little short…" One of these days I'll stop teasing her about being so much shorter. But I doubt that will be soon. "The gloves will hide the fact that we have…well, _girlie hands. We can't help being female- so let's hide that."_

  Rhiannon looked down at her chest. "Little obvious don't you think?"

  I looked around, spying the dead people and their plain clothes...

  "Don't even _think about it," she warned me._

  "Alright. So just pray that whoever we meet is blind and won't notice. If there's a war on, we're screwed if they find out we're women. Unfortunately, in this case, it could be literally." I replied matter-of-fact.

  I pulled the gloves on and slammed the hat on my head, carefully pushing the points of my ears under the hat. Rhiannon reluctantly did the same. I heard her muttering, "Stupid pricks…if they _dare try to even touch me…keel over on the ground bawling their eyes out…"_

  I quickly threw all of the lingerie back in, covering it with the fruit, whistles, earplugs, bandages and barf bag. I looked up when I heard a sharp voice ordering something or other; there were a bunch of Hermes-wannabes riding up. They had wings on their helmets, and a tree with stars on their shields. The guy who seemed to be leading them looked at me first, but I was more interested in memorising the design on their shields…nice craftsmanship and design…

  Rhiannon beside me was talking to him, but I was just looking round at these Men trying to figure out who they were and all that. If I remembered correctly, they were the Men from the Last Alliance, the survivors of the Númenorean race.

  "Look, I haven't got time for your peasant problems! There's a war going on."

  Yes, the War of the Last Alliance…I wondered whether this guy might be Isildur. He would sure fit my description of it. Ugly, Man, Hermes-helmet, attitude problem, rude…

  As he went back to his shouting, Rhiannon looked at me with an expression that said, 'You're tall. And at this time, you're going to be a lot more reasonable in trying to dealing with this prick…'

  I sighed and spoke up more confidently than I was really feeling. In fact, I would rather have run away at that moment, but Rhiannon doesn't like backing down. And well, as her best friend, I don't have much choice but to back her up. I sure as hell didn't have any ideas of my own, and however much trouble Rhiannon's ideas seemed to get us in, it was preferable to wandering aimlessly because I'm too much of a coward to do anything myself. "Excuse me, sir," I said politely. "We're not supposed to be here, and as you seem to be in charge-" It sounded stupid even to me, but he didn't have to interrupt!

  "Then leave," the leader of the group snarled, not bothering to turn back around. Men, I have found, have a lack of manners and courtesy for women, regardless of what world they exist in. That's it; I'm _sure women are a completely different species…_

  Rhiannon grabbed my arm and dragged me aside before I could say anything else, 'cause that guy was really starting to _piss me off. She whispered in my ear, "I need some height to deal with this problem. Care to give me a lift?"_

  I knelt down and she climbed on my shoulders…don't let anyone fool you into thinking that because somebody is lacking in a foot of your own height that they weigh any less than you do. Geez, Rhiannon!

  It took some real strength- and stretching of muscles I knew were going to kill me the next day- to stand on my own feet, supporting her weight as well as my own. After that it got easier. I simply walked up to the guy and Rhiannon dealt with the rest of the impromptu plan.

  "Yo!" she shouted. The guy turned around looking for the kill, only to have Rhiannon's fist slammed into his face.

  Hee hee hee! You should've seen him fall! Not even my tremendous fall down the stairs (I'll tell you another time) could top the flight and pain of that guy falling on his arse! The noise accompanying it only added to the hilarity of the otherwise dangerous situation.

  My laughter died down as I realised he hadn't moved in the slightly. _Oh, bugger, I thought. __Rhiannon must've smashed his nose back into his brain…it's killed him. The only fact contrary to my guess was that his nose was still intact (despite the amount of blood rushing from it). At the very least, she must've knocked him unconscious._

  "Shit." Rhiannon and I said in unison. Apparently the same thoughts had occurred to her.

  One of these days, I'm going to talk to Rhiannon about her temper, impatience and recklessness. It gets us into so much trouble. Sure, I know it seems like I'm not doing much myself right now, but I prefer to observe and take in every aspect of the situation before I act. In short, I think first; Rhiannon just acts.

  My observation at this point was of the Hermes' captain's men starting to move into action, drawing swords and the like. Unconsciously, we began backing up. Running was a mutual agreement that neither Rhiannon nor I had to speak aloud to know we were going to do it if those guys came any closer.

  But as it turned out, running was unnecessary. Or rather, running was no longer as option. The guy sat up. Good news for us. His men relaxed somewhat; we were less likely to have to sprint for our lives. Then came the bad news. The Hermes Captain was majorly peeved with us. His first words were, "You!" (pointing at Rhiannon…well, hey! Maybe I could still get out of this…although I didn't relish the idea of being separated from my friend at this point in time). The look of false innocence on Rhiannon's face didn't help matters any. The dude's next words were "Seize them!"

  I suddenly found myself wishing this guy had stayed unconscious a little longer (I'm not much into killing, and I'm sure Rhiannon wouldn't really want to kill a person no matter how much of an arsehole he is), I mean, at least then we would've been able to run for it! But before we could put our mutual plan into action, we were surrounded. I've never been so scared. Not even my mother, scary as she is, would ever beat how frightening these guys were; my mother can't wield a sword!

  My overactive imagination thought back to all those stories I'd read about war-whores and women being raped and…_oh shit. Execution, maybe? I tried to decide which one I'd prefer, then pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. Maybe Rhiannon's big mouth could get us out of this; after all, she got us into it. I snorted at that notion, remembering the saying, __Stupidity got us into this mess, why can't it get us out of it?_

  A glance in Rhiannon's direction revealed she was just as scared as I was. Not apologetic, I might add.

  A length of rope was used to tie our arms around our waists. What? They were into bondage? Next thing I know, I'm being shoved on the ground. _Ouch is all I can say about that. The sword at my throat was expected, but icy cold!? Oh well, my dilemma was answered. Execution was definitely on the cards. It made me angry. Who the __hell did this guy think he was?_

   The captain dude came over, snarling down at us, as we tried to look up and see what was happening.

  "You!" he growled. "You…!" Clearly he was a one-word man. Intelligent….especially in front of his men.

  "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" we retorted in unison. Reflecting on that moment, I should've kept my mouth shut. I mean, I was only the accomplice. Rhiannon was the one who punched the guy. And if she'd had stilts, I only would've been an innocent bystander…damn, that sounds stupid, even to me. We looked at each other, lying on our bellies as we were, and shared a grin. Shit, if our heads were gonna be chopped off, we might as well find something to laugh about!

  The guy's expression turned so red and so angry, you could've mistaken him for being constipated.

  To cut the crap short, we were dragged- yes, literally- back to their camp and to this guy's own boss. I knew we were in trouble then.

  I was astounded to find out, the captain dude's boss was none other than Isildur, Prince of Arnor and Gondor…were I not in such a mess, I would've been flattered to see this legendary prick that botched the history of Middle Earth.

  The captain dude explained the situation, as Isildur looked over us, giving a flick of his head to signal our guards to pick us off the ground.

  "Pray tell, from whence do you come?" Isildur asked, us after Captain Arsehole finished his overly dramatic tale. Wasn't he in the least bit embarrassed that Rhiannon had kicked his arse (metaphorically speaking) with a single punch to the nose? He was beaten by a woman! And a short one at that!

  "That Great Beyond," Rhiannon intoned in a voice so insincerely serious, I couldn't help but snort. I would've done more, but I didn't want to offend Isildur or incite him to punish us in any way.

  "And what business do you have here? There is a war, if you would care to look around."

  I can't remember exactly what I said, but according to Rhiannon I replied, "Beats the hell out of me, Hermes." If I did, that would explain the look of puzzlement on Isildur's face that only lasted a moment.

  He seemed to think little of my answer, whatever I said, for he then calmly questioned, "And where came upon you such garments as those you wear?"

  For a guy I know will turn out a prick, he was sure using (wasting) eloquent words on us. We looked down at our clothes, noting the massive difference between our clothes and theirs. We were still wearing our clothes from 'back home', Rhiannon's top still reading clearly, 'Good Kitties are Bad Kitties that don't get caught.' Unfortunately, Rhiannon is a bad kitty that gets caught far too often for peace of mind…

  I was much more thankful for my usual modest sense of dress; jeans and a loose t-shirt with my mother's extra large crimson flannel shirt over the top. For some that might be hillbilly costume, but for me, who had been getting hand me downs since I was a baby, it was comfortable. That's what I look for in clothes.

  Alright, got a bit sidetracked…I hate it when people insult my choice of clothing. It's my lack of choice that leads me to enjoy wearing what I have.

  Back to Ilsidur's question. What else could we say? "The store," we answered honestly in unison once again.      

  "What store?"

  "Several, actually," Rhiannon replied.

  Isildur reached for a pewter cup and filled it with wine, he looked thoughtful before drinking, and also after when he crushed the cup.

  My eyes widened. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!_

  Even Rhiannon managed to curb her big mouth.

  He turned back to us. "You say you are from the 'Great Beyond'. Came you from Númenor, our lost land? Tell me, are there other survivors from that devastation? No news of such came to us in Rómenna before Númenor was taken back beneath the waters of the Great Sea of any others planning to escape."

  "Númenor, the island of Men that was destroyed by the Valar because some of the Men decided they wanted to go to Valinor despite being ordered not to?" I asked for clarification. I wasn't entirely sure everything had happened as in the Silmarillion, so this would indicate how much was true.

  Isildur slowly nodded his head, his expression one of remorse and sorrow.

  "Nope, haven't been there," Rhiannon shrugged.

  "Nor have I," I added. "But I heard of it."

  Isildur sighed wistfully. "Then 'tis true. It was too much to hope that there were others. We are the last of the blood of Númenor." He looked up at me, and I met his gaze for an instant before he moved back to the map on his table and ordered, "Take them away. Put them in one of the tents for confinement at this time. But do not harm them!"

  Knowing what he could have had done to us, and what we probably deserved, he was a man of honour. I knew then that the only reason he had not destroyed the Ring, was Man's weakness to the will of Sauron. I pity, the poor bugger.

  Captain Arsehole marched us out of Isildur's tent, pulling us roughly along. He was saying something nasty about us and that we should have shown more respect to the Prince; but I'm sure as hell not calling anyone 'Your Highness' or that sort, and I was respectful. Not to the utmost, but I do sort of feel sorry for Isildur.

  I thought about what the Silmarillion had told, regarding Númenor and the War of the Last Alliance, and felt saddened that so many of these Men would die, Men who did indeed have honour.

  I was no longer afraid. They would not kill us or rape us, nor would they leave us to the orcs' mercy; and that alone was small grace in the current situation Rhiannon and I had gotten into. But at the same time, I knew I didn't want to be; we didn't belong in the battlefield.

  At last we reached the tent where Captain Arsehole threw Rhiannon in, but I calmly entered by myself, surprising the uptight-captain. Rhiannon was inventing profanities when I walked in, but I felt much calmer, and knew that we would get away.

  Food and drink was brought to us before the captain left one of his men at each corner of the tent, so we had no chance to slip away without notice. Although frankly, I think we'd stand out with our weird clothes. The mud and dirt might hide some of it, but sure as hell not all.

  After finishing the food and drink- would believe we still had our bags with us? The morons didn't think to take them- we began brainstorming some ideas to escape when we had a visit from a couple of Elves.

  They were gorgeous! I tried not to let it show, but my eyes were watering they were so beautiful. I blinked it back and exchanged glances with Rhiannon who looked like she could've ravage the one who Elrond introduced as Glorfindel.

  "Hot damn!" we whispered in agreement.

  It was not hard to guess that hormones possessed Rhiannon's mind at that moment, as she put her hands on her hips- she might be able to get away with that provocative behaviour, but it's an uncomfortable matter for me- and she grinned wickedly. I sighed inwardly, knowing basically what to expect next. I shook my head, but couldn't help the grin spreading on my face as I watched her and her obvious flirtation.

  She circled the two Elves, raising eyebrows in a admiring expression of pleasing fascination. I could tell she was enjoying playing with the Elves as she did. As she walked behind Glorfindel she winked at me.

  I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to smother my amusement.

  "Fe," she stated, licking her lips. "I think I'm in love. You should feel the muscle of that ass!" As she ran her hand over Glorfndel's butt. He leapt into the air up and away from her, turning around to see her wicked grin grow.

  "I'll pass on that one," I replied, unable to contain my mirth any longer.

  "Oh come on," she pouted deceptively. "It's quite lovely."

  Elrond's expression was stern. Glorfindel seemed unable to find the reason and words for why he was there. "The High King Gil-galad wishes to speak with you both."

  I was astounded. Why would the High King of the Elves want to speak to us?

  "Good for him," Rhiannon interrupted my thinking. Doesn't she e_ver ****__shut up?_

  She gave him what she obviously believed was a sweet smile to win him over, but Elrond stood firm.

  It was at that point, her smile faded and her face took on this distinctly evil expression that I know to be her expression when she refuses to back down on something. A defiant stare, to be blunt.

  Glrofindel looked at me- probably worried I'd followed Rhiannon's example- but I just shrugged. I wanted to get out of here- alive- and by riling up Men and Elves, we were not going to achieve that.

  "The King is not to be disobeyed," Elrond growled, his tone ringing clear with warning.

  Glorfindel and I waited anxiously for them to do something further before we intervened. Now that I look back on it, I find it hilarious…Rhiannon is just over 5ft…Elrond is closer to 7ft. Seeing her trying to stare him down when she had to constantly look up at him, was hilarious. But at the time, I was more afraid she was going to get us into further trouble. It occurred to me later, that everyone was quite tall, and unlike back home, I would have little trouble finding males who were taller than me…you have no idea what it's like trying to dance with a guy who is only as tall as your stomach.

  "Who said he was _our King?" she scowled back at him._

  Oh for Pete's sake, Rhiannon! Give up on it!...although I had to admit, she had a point. Yet at the same time, I would rather answer to somebody and worm my way out of trouble rather than blundering further into deep shit.

  I could see Rhiannon was starting to be intimidated by Elrond and his rather large height advantage in the staring contest. It's rather like watching a Jack Russell trying to beat down an Irish Wolfhound. Whoo!

  "Rhiannon," I said, threateningly. I flexed my fists next to my side, ready to drag her if need be. "Don't you think we could try to avoid trouble with at least one of the people here?"

  "Oh, probably," she answered, not taking her eyes of the Elf before her. "But at that moment I'm having too much fun."

  I could've punched her if I wasn't trying so hard to keep us from being separated. At that time, we only had each other who understood the exact situation we were in, and she was my friend; I had to stick by her, even when she was wrong and a complete idiot.

  I was about to pull her away when Isildur appeared at the tent entrance. The two kept their 'game' up a bit longer before Elrond looked to Isildur with a nod. Rhiannon's expression was smugly triumphant. Damn I wish somebody would win at her games! She was getting arrogant about her abilities. At about that time, I decided an escape was needed _soon._

  Elrond, Glorfindel and Isildur conversed in the Elvish Language for some time before Rhiannon and I realised that none of them were paying attention to them.

  "Hey, Fe! Wanna get out of here?" she whispered quietly.

  Who would have thought she could come up with a good idea? Glancing back at the two Elves and Man, I grinned. They weren't looking at us. "Sure! No sudden movements though- it'll attract their attention."

  We picked up our backpacks and shimmied round them, to the tent flap and slipped out without them noticing. I was paranoid that they were going to realise too soon, or that the sentry would alert everyone to our imminent escape. But the tent flap remained closed and a glance at the bushes was enough to turn my face bright red, while I tried to hold down a snigger. The guard would _not be any the wiser for our escape._

  Once we believed we were out of hearing distance, we rounded a few tent corners to put us out of sight…and we sighted the horses. Quickly back-pedalling, we sprinted in the direction of the horses. Thankfully there was no one around to see us; or our escape would have been short-lived.

  Rhiannon was quite fast, for a short person. Like a Jack Russell, really. Short legs, but quick when they want to be. As well as yappy- for which we'd already suffered the consequences. But it will never outmatch somebody who was built for running and sprinting.

  I slowed down a lot more quickly, as the easily excitable Jack Russell-Elf Rhiannon passed for a moment before realising that I was no longer with her. If she says she passed me while we were running- that's bullshit. She just didn't catch onto the fact it's really suspicious when two strange dressed Human/Elf-women are sprinting towards horses. I was walking a lot sooner than she, calming my fast-beating heart and slowing my breathing to help make the plan that I was about put into action credible.

  Rhiannon looked at me, understanding that I was in charge at this point in time. We didn't want to attract attention- and that was _my specialty. She glanced nervously over her shoulder._

  When I reached the gates, I opened my mouth to say "Hey you!" because I saw a boy walking by. But what I actually said came out as, "Ho!" Embarrassed, I looked to Rhiannon who raised an eyebrow. I hoped my face wasn't too red, and that maybe I could convince her I'd meant to say it.

  She said nothing thankfully, but stood behind me as the boy came over. I had to admit- her top wasn't hiding her femininity very well. And that wouldn't help our plans to get out of here.

  "The Lords Elrond and Glorfindel wish us to fetch their horses," I gave a nod of my head, implying that I was the boy's equal. I was a few inches taller, and several years older, but he assumed my voice must have been breaking, making me around his age and with my baggy clothes, he couldn't really tell whether I was a woman or a man. Either way, he didn't question me.

  I have to confess, Elrond and Glorfindel have a brilliant eye for horses. The horses the boy led to us- already saddled and bridled; it seemed not even Elf-Lords rode bareback into war…probably to protect the horse as much as possible- had clearly been breed for beauty, speed and strength. They had succeeded.

  "What is you name?" I asked him.

  "Tom," he smiled.

  I returned the smile gratefully. "Thank you, Tom. I had expected to be saddling the Lords' horses myself. I put a hand on my chest and inclined my head in thanks.

  Tom blushed, not used to being treated so courteously.

  We led the horses back the way we had a come a little while Tom went about his business more fervently than before.

  Having been a horse-fanatic as a child, I knew exactly how to mount the horse, though Rhiannon struggled a little with height being her main problem. She had taken Glorfindel's horse, leaving me to the bay that seemed rather temperamental. I hoped not. I'd never actually ridden a horse properly before. To have one misbehave on me would be bad thing now.

  "Ho?" Rhiannon queried, mockingly.

  "It worked, didn't it?" I replied, trying not to blush.

  "How?"

  "Shut up!"

  She shook her head. "You're a nut."

  Like you can talk, Rhiannon.

  We turned the horses around, but I could barely convince the bay to walk. And I needed it to go a bit faster than that. Knowing Tolkien's stuff like the back of my hand, I said, "_Noro lim!" And I was off! It didn't take Rhiannon to catch up, a momentary look of terror on her face revealed that she had not been ready for the fast gait anymore than I had. Fastest I'd ever been before was a canter. A flat fast gallop was quite frightening until you got used to it, and by then it was thrilling!_

  We weaved through the camp easily and without resistance, as even the horsemen sent after us soon got left behind. We were free!


	5. It's All Totally FUBAR From Here On In

            "You just can't be quiet, can you?"  Fe looked a bit annoyed.  We'd been in the tent for only a few moments before she started in on me.

            "What are you on about?"

            "All your yapping!  You _are _like your dogs."

            "Woof."  I glared.  "And my dogs don't yap!  They bark, thank you very much.  They just bark a lot.  And rather shrilly."  I stopped talking, finding the taste of my foot to be unpleasant.  "What was up with that dude with the big hat, anyway?"

            "Isildur?"  
            "Yeah, that guy.  Mr. 'I-Don'-Wanna-Destroy-The-Ring'.  He had one major pickle up his arse."

            "I'd imagine being in a huge war for the freedom of a world and having your own land destroyed by betrayal and deceit would do that to you," Fe remarked dryly.

            I gave this some thought.  "Yeah, you're probably right.  But still..._someone_ definitely needs to get laid."

            "Rhiannon!"  She seemed shocked, although she's known me long enough that she really shouldn't be, when I pull sentiments like that out of a hat.

            "What?"  I did my best to look innocent.

            She was more than likely going to say more, but the tent flap moved aside, and sunlight blinded us for a moment.  At least, I think it was the sunlight…

             It was the first time I saw them.  Elrond, herald of Gil-galad, and at his side was Glorfindel.  Glorfy's name was damned odd, but – damn! – he was _beautiful_.  I think both Fe and my chins dropped to our chests. 

            And their chins dropped too.  I'd forgotten which shirt I was wearing.  The words upon it were probably something they'd never seen before, and probably couldn't due to unfortunate placement, but...  Honestly, though, I'd like to think their chins dropped because we – and I especially – were gorgeous, but I've seen Elvish women.  _Nothing_ can compare to the beauty of Elvish women.  Absolutely _nothing_.  Technically we are Elvish women now, but apparently we still look as we did when we were human.  Maybe they get more beautiful with age?  If that was the case, then Glorfy must be _ancient_, and Fe and I had a long way to catch up.

            In truth, I think it was that Glorfy and Elrond – dear boys that they are – had never seen a woman with her breasts as obvious as mine were while still being clothed.  I felt my hackles rise.

            Look – I'm not going to get into an argument about what figures of speech I use!  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, an area that is generally referred to as the 'hackles'.  So what if it's got the wrong connotations for the moment?  I don't care.  

            Anyway, Glorfy and Elrond exchanged a few brief sentences in what could only be Elvish.  And I wanted to melt.  A quick glance at Fe told me that she wanted the same.

            "Hot damn".  We said it together.  The two Elves turned to us.  I pondered for a moment not being cheeky – hell, what if this _wasn't_ all one big joke? – but fun won out and I was determined to have some.  Life is something you only appreciate when you're dead; I've said it for years, but it's _so_ true.  Fe must have recognized the glint because her eyes took on the look they always get when I'm about to do something entirely stupid.

            I put my hands on my hips.  The words of my shirt undoubtedly took on a new shape, and they eyes of the Elves tracked them.  I grinned.  This was going to be _fun_.  A lot better than sitting around and snapping at each other, certainly.

            I stepped forward and circled the two Elves, giving them both appraising glances.  The old, 'once over'.  I liked what I saw, I must admit.  Damn tall, damn hot – both of them – and those pointy ears that have always gotten females to go totally nuts over anyone with them, including Leonard Nimoy.  And…something else too...I paused behind Glorfindel and then peered around him to give Fe a wink.  She was trying not to laugh.

            Have you ever seen an Elf jump?  No?  Well, they get about four feet in height, and generally come down shocked, and somewhat angry.

            "Fe," I said, totally ignoring the glare I was getting from the Elves, "I think I'm in love.  You should feel the muscle of that ass!"  I just had.  It was why Glorfy had jumped.

            "I think I'll pass," she said and then burst into giggles.

            "Oh come on!" I insisted.  "It's quite lovely."  

            Elrond looked stern.  Spoilsport.    "The High-king Gil-galad wishes to speak with you."

            "Good for him."  Fe once pointed out that I'm very much like my Jack Russell Terriers, i.e.: spunky.  I've often wondered if this was a good thing.  I smiled sweetly at the sullen bastard.  Alas, no dice.  Not a muscle twitched on his glaring face.

            Gradually, I guess the smile slipped, and all that was left was a staring contest between newly made Elf woman and damn-old-but-still-hot-half-Elf-herald-guy.  Fiona said later that it was a 'defiant stare'.  I'd tend more towards 'annoyed'.  I was having a staring contest with Uncle Gilly's – I'll explain _that_ bit later – herald, yes, but I don't know about being 'defiant'.  But jeeze…something about this guy's sullen stern-osity drove me around the bend.  So what if this was a war?  So what if some king dude wanted to speak to us?  I didn't give two shits in a rain-barrel; _some_ people around here still have to have fun.  Besides; Elf-boy here hadn't just had his life cut short by some dumbassed, hit-and-run truck driver in a back-roads suburb from hell!

            "The king is not to be disobeyed."  Go Elrond; you win the 'flat, emotionless comment of the month' award.  Although there was a sort of 'dangerous' tone to it… Did I mention that the dude was about seven feet tall?  What is it with all the tall people around here?  Is _no one_ short?  

            So his 'almighty haughtiness' was attempting to intimidate me with his Elvish hotness and height.  And glare.  It was working, but I wasn't about to let him know that.  Jack Russell indeed!  A close ancestor to one of my own dogs was once found dead with its jaws locked around the neck of a dead jaguar in a South African jungle.  Poor kitty.  Poor dog too, but…there is one fundamental difference between my dogs and I.  I don't – usually – go looking for a fight, and there are times – though rare – that I know when to back down.  I just don't like it.  I'm stubborn as hell.  My dad never let me forget that.  

            "Who said he was _our_ king?  _We_ just got here."

            "Rhiannon," Fe said warningly.  She's always been the more practical when it comes to authority.  I'm not usually this rebellious, but, as I said, Elrond was _seriously_ pissing me off.  "Don't you think we should at least play a long with this one?"

            "Oh probably," I replied, still staring at Elrond.  "But at the moment I'm having too much fun."  I tried grinning again; didn't work, but I wasn't really expecting it to.

            This probably would have continued for forever if Isildur hadn't shown up and interrupted.  Bastard.  But Elrond looked away first.  I swear it.  Fe will testify to that fact.  I felt rather smug about that.  I out-stared the Herald of Gil-galad!  Go me!  Fe was rolling her eyes, but I just smiled.

            How come everyone here can speak this spine-tingly language?  It's unfair.  _Galadriel's Lament_ – you know, the one at the end of Farewell to Lothlórien, in FOTR – had me in tears of frustration from trying to pronounce it, and the language just flows from the lips of these guys, one of them even being the bumbling Chief Hermes look-alike.  It's just _too_ unfair!

            Their conversation continued for some time.  And they were pointedly ignoring us – all three of 'em! – so I turned to my twin and spoke softly.

            "Hey Fe.  Want to get out of here?"

            She looked apprehensively up at the Three Musketeers and then grinned.  "Sure!"

            So we grabbed the backpacks – I _still_ can't believe they let us keep those; talk about the old 'one inept guard' ploy! – and slipped silently out the front flap, right past the sentry, who was fulfilling that 'one inept guard' slot by pissing in the bushes, no doubt believing that his Prince and two Elves could handle the new prisoners.  Hah!  So we slipped right by him…

            …And then took off at a dead run in the general direction of 'elsewhere'.  Until, of course, we spotted the horses and changed direction to that way, hoping to all things sacred that any of the other soldiers about might think that two strangely dressed females with odd packs on their backs and strange hats on their heads high tailing it towards the horse pens was an every day occurrence and not to be thought much of.  

Most people don't notice strange happenings, usually because they're not expecting them.  I read about this one experiment where Anton Le Vay had behind a glass wall in his kitchen a lion, and then invited a bunch of people over.  All but one was told of it, and so knew what to expect, but the last did not.  He was in the kitchen for a good long while before he realized that there was a lion there.  Even stood facing in its general direction, while other people around him were talking about it.  And when he finally _did_ notice it, he went nutzoid, yelling about how there was a lion, when everyone else was trying to convince him that it'd been there all along.  Just goes to show you how perceptive humans really _aren't_.   And the pair of us beating arse through the camp, dressed as we were and all, should have been noticed, but weren't due to this same principal.

            It must be pointed out that while Fe's a great sprinter, what with those long legs and all, I am a damn sight better at long distance running.  I mean, big things come in short packages; stamina happens to be one of those things.  And – shut up! – don't let Fe try to tell you different.  

            Either way, she gained ground because of her height, where I caught up and passed because of stamina.  And we _still_ somehow managed to slow to a halt and arrive walking briskly at the pens, so as not to be suspicious, _at exactly the same time._  She tried to say that she stopped earlier, but just ignore that.  She's lying.  And I _did_ pass her.  And not just because she slowed down either.  I really did.  Legs can take you so far, but when you run out of energy…short and spunky win the race. 

            As if we wouldn't be suspicious though.  Take in our appearance, would you, and try to guess what might be suspicious about us, given our surroundings.  But I've already explained my theories on that, so…whatever.  

            I glanced at Fe and noted that she apparently had a plan.  Or, at least, a determined look that she always gets when she's got a plan.  I hoped it was a plan, anyway, because I was just waiting for Glorfy and that piss-sodden Elrond to come along and ruin the fun.

            "Ho!" she cried as we reached the gates.  I turned and gave her the 'one-raised-eyebrow', but she only grinned, and I kept my silence.

            A spotty youth appeared.  Kid looked like he'd just grown out of public school; no doubt they considered him to be 'a man'.  Bah; I refuse to have any part in such stupid rituals.  Children don't belong at war.  And the definition of 'children' can apply to almost anyone, so don't nit pick.  This kid's voice was still breaking.

            "The Lords Elrond and Glorfindel wish us to fetch them their horses."  So _that _was her plan!  Brilliant!  The horses of the Elves themselves – pardon the rhyme – how wonderfully perfect!

            The kid took one look at us and then hurried over to the two most beautiful animals I have ever seen.  I wanted to weep.  I've always had a weakness for horses, and those of the Elven breeds are very much at the better end of the breeding spectrum.  And the icing on the cake; they were already saddled and bridled.  

            The kid, who Fiona managed to find out was named Tom, handed me the reigns of the white one; I let Fe go for the blood bay.  The white one _had_ to be Glorfy's.  No other horse would suit, and the bay seemed more than a little surly, and I immediately pegged it as Elrond's.  

            After we took the precious time to thank a blushing and still spotty Tom – Fe throwing in a particular type of body language that I'd _never _expected to see from her – we moved away from the pens, deceptively in the direction that we'd just came from, just as across the camp shouts were sounding and the shining head of Glorfindel caught the sunlight.  We led the horses around a tent, where we proceeded to mount them. 

            "Ho?" 

            "It worked, didn't it?" Fe can be mighty defensive.

            "Ho?"

            "Shut up!"

            I shook my head.  "You're a nut."  She gave me an evil look.

            We managed to turn the horses in a direction opposite of that from which the shouts were coming.  But the horses weren't moving.  

            "Hey," I said after a moment where we tried clucking, nudging flanks with heels and flicking the reigns.  "What was it that Glorfy said to his horse when the Ringwraiths were after him?  _Noro lim, Asfa­ – _SHIT!"

            The last was uttered as the beautiful white animal upon which I was mounted bunched its wonderfully well-sculpted muscles and sprang into the fastest gallop I have ever been a passenger for.  After a moment, the blood bay with Fiona on its back caught up.  

Wait a minute…damn it…didn't I tell you about the whole thing with the backpacks and everything?  Fe's pineapple?  Oops.  Oh well, I'll explain that later, as I'm getting to some good bits, and…

            All right, all right!  Keep you pants on, please!  When we got here, we realized that our bags of chocolate were now backpacks, and that they had stuff in that we hadn't had before, and that we had pointy ears.  I don't get it.  If I was an Elf now, I should be taller than Fe – no poetic justice for me – and at least six times better looking than I am currently.  Good enough explanation for now?  It'll have to do.  Can I get back to the story?  I said I was sorry – leaving out a chunk of plot that large is worth a spanking.  And I know just who to deliv – oh no!  We're getting back on track _right now_.        

I shan't try to really put words to what it was like riding the steed of Glorfindel.  Rather like riding Glorfindel himse – I am _not_ going to finish that sentence!  Don't even _think_ about asking!  You're just trying to slip me up, aren't you, Mr. Shadow Man?  Hah…that's what I thought…  

            Anyway, scenery whipped by and very soon the camp and everyone in it, including the horsemen sent to catch us, were left far, far behind.

            After a bloody long while, we stopped, but mostly for the horses' benefit.  Although, my ass was pretty damned sore.  Despite the fact that the gallop neared a flight like quality, even to the point of feeling like a fast moving cloud rather than a fast moving animal. I hadn't spent a great deal of time in the saddle at that point.  Hardly any time, actually, in many, many years.  More like diddlysquat.

            So the pair of us dismounted in the deepening twilight and stretched.  Fe was rather surprised to note that I _did_ know how to get down, and that it didn't involve letting gravity do all the work.  I'd had to mount from a convenient crate, and she'd sniggered at me.  Not my fault the wonderful creature was over sixteen hands high at the withers.  

            Fe made some remark about me needing a pony, so I told her to stuff it, and that I wasn't going to give up Asfaloth unless Glorfy pried me off the animal's back with a crowbar and locked me up.  I've always wanted a horse, especially one this beautiful.  And this white.

            "You don't even know if its name is Asfaloth."  You had to admit; she had a point.

            A quick check and I had the right pronoun.  "He did react to 'Asfaloth' when I told him to run…"

            "You didn't even get the full word out."

            "Good point.  What would you name him then?  Your horse could be named 'Arse Pickle'".

            "I refuse to name an animal 'Arse Pickle', even if you think Elrond's got one!"

            "It was just a thought."  I tried to think of suitable Elvish names for such a beautiful animal, but my lack of understanding of the language had me in a bit of a fix.  Giving up on that, I tried to think of simple English names that would work for such a magnificent creature.  There simply weren't any other than 'Sweet Jebebus!' and I sure as hell wasn't going to name a horse 'Sweet Jebebus', although I've heard worse.  "What does 'Asfaloth' mean, anyway?"

            "Something about flowers."

            "Oh."  I remained thoughtful.  The horse did carry the air of meadows and flowers and places in Middle-earth that I knew to exist and would rather be in, and longed for with all my heart.  Mountain vales and stream banks, and…I could go on dreaming about it, but I fear that you'd never get to hear the rest of it, and I would only be left with the vain wish of seeing those places someday.  Stars were coming out, and the moon was rising.  It was more than beautiful, and the horses were glowing.

            "Well boy," I said, turning to the horse after failing to come up with the right name in either Elvish or English.  "Looks like you're stuck with 'Sweet Jebebus' for now."    Sweet Jebebus snickered, as if to tell me to think of something better.  "I tried, boy; I really did."

            "Why not just call him 'Asfaloth'?"  

            "Works for now," I agreed.  So did Asfaloth, né Sweet Jebebus.  

We fed them with grain from the saddlebags, and rubbed them down – vague rememberings of horse camp reminded me we had to do this – and then proceeded to explore the contents of the saddlebags, despite Fe's worries that we were invading privacy.  

            "I'm quite sure," I said matter-of-factly, "that both Elrond _and_ Glorfy would search our bags if given half a chance.  Though, they had a chance while they were talking to us."

            "Not really," Fe said.  "Because I seem to remember a certain young lady acting all…" she trailed off, and I could feel my face start to go a rather alarming shade of red.

            "All what?  Go a head and say it."

            "Say what?"

            "That I was acting all slutty!"

            "I wasn't going to say that!"

            "I bet you were!" It's really damned easy to get Fe riled up.  Really all you have to do is refer to Gil-galad as 'Uncle Gilly'.  You only get to do this once before you die, though, so use the chance wisely.  This is precisely why, of course, I keep doing it, but that's a thought for later.

            "I was not!"

            "Were too!"

            "I never would!"

            "What _were_ you going to say then?"

            Fiona, writer of many a secret, sordid, smutty romance, paused for a moment before deciding on the right word for my apparent behavior.  "Hormonal."

            "Hormonal?"  _One big hormone waiting to happen_.  I'd heard the description used by my mother about a former coworker who would throw herself at anything male that moved in her near vicinity.  I took particular offence to that, as I usually make sure the man is at least good looking – unlike my coworker – and not a slimy customer at a gas station.

            "Quite."

            "You _did_ look at Glorfy, didn't you?"  I wasn't sure if she'd seen him.  He was as good an explanation for my behavior as any.

            "Yes, and he is hot –"

            "_Damn_ hot – "

            "- damn hot, whatever.  But we have to behave for at least _one_ of the species here, especially if it's the one we now belong to."

            "Don't see why." I know I was being childish, and muttering sullenly, but really.  One needs to have fun when one snuffs it early, and Fe, right now, seemed to be spoiling that.

            Fiona sighed theatrically.  "Because," she said as though explaining it to a small child, "we don't want to make enemies."

            I glared at the ground.  I suppose this is one of those times when I should back down and not be so farking stubborn.  I did, but it took effort.

            After a bit, I picked up a few bits of wood and laid them about in a spot that we'd torn up as use for a fire pit.  After messing about with what was apparently a tinderbox, we had a small fire going, but nothing really to cook on it except Fe's pineapple, and we tried to save that.  There were some small cakes in the saddle bags, but it was some time before either of us could bring ourselves to eat them, feeling more than a little like stealing.  But, wow…after a few bites they filled us up completely, and we felt renewed vigor.

            "So…" I said after a bit.  "What's up with Isildur?"

            "I'd have to say that this is definitely _before_ he keeps the Ring," Fe supplied.

            "Yeah…which would mean that this is that Battle or whatever."

            "The Battle of the Last Alliance."

            "That one," I agreed.  There followed a reflective silence.  

"You know what this means, right?"  Fe asked after a bit.

"That we got reincarnated at just the wrong time?"  At least we got to keep our old bodies.  And it was reincarnation, after a sort.  We did die, we did go through the tunnel…and we are currently alive, if philosophers are to be damned and ignored…whatever.  It's as good a word as any to describe our current predicament.

"We may have been sent here to fight."  She seemed none too pleased with that thought.

I stared at her.  "You've been reading too many prophecy stories again.  You know full well that no 'honorable man' in their right mind would dare let a female – let alone two – near a battle field, especially ones so obviously untrained."

"We wouldn't have the problem of the obvious femininity if _you_ had just bound your breasts!"

I stuck my tongue out, which was perhaps the most childish thing I'd done yet.  That's debatable, however.  "I wasn't about to put dead people's clothes on!  Who _knows_ where they've been?  They could have had fleas and all sorts of nasty skin conditions, and I wasn't about to subject the Twins to such a devastating situation."  I crossed my arms protectively over my chest.

"And _then_ you just had to go throw yourself at Glorfindel."

"Pardon me for spotting someone damned hot."

"The Elves are supposed to be beautiful and remote, not sex objects."  She was blushing though, which led me to believe that she didn't really believe in her words as much as she wanted to.  If only we'd stuck around to see that LOTR movie that was coming out...I might have had a chance at dissuading her, as, from the look of it, the guy they'd gotten for Legolas was _really_ hot.

"Who says?  You're just caught up in the wistful beauty of them.  No one ever said they weren't sexual animals.  How the hell would they breed otherwise?"

"But that's what makes them better than us!"

"Whatever then," I replied, refusing to argue any more.  Despite evidence to the contrary, I don't like confrontations.  Chalk it up to my Canadian heritage.

"What should we do about the Alliance then?" Fe asked after a bit.

"I dunno," I replied.  "Join it?"

"Join it."  She repeated my statement with a flatness that told me that she really was quite scared at the thought of throwing herself into battle.  Can't say that I blamed her.  Wasn't too pleased with the prospect myself.

"Yeah," I continued.  "You know.  Throw ourselves into glory and honor, slay a thousand Orcs apiece and come out alive and with our sense of mortality still intact."

"Now you're the one who's been reading too many stories again.  You know full well that's not how it really goes."

"I know.  But think of it; since this is all one big joke, we'd still live, and likely end up with the Elves in the end.  It's how stories work."

"Or we could be captured by the Orcs and end up in some dark and dismal torture chamber."

"We could.  Or we could kill a thousand of those farking bunyips and win ourselves some hot Elves."

"Are hot Elves all you think about?"

"You _did_ see Glorfy, right?"

She sighed.  "For the hundredth time, yes, I saw Glorfindel."

"Then there's the answer to your question."  I grinned at her.  

            Of course, the momentary silence that followed proved to be to our saving advantage.  Because those bunyips came back, and this time they didn't ignore us.  

            Among the various little treasures held in the saddle bags of the two Elves were two long handled and equally long bladed knives, that were wicked sharp and damned beautiful – and too big for my hand, although they fit Fe's quite nicely.  I'd showed her how to hold it properly, and it's a good thing too, because at the first sign of those nasty little things, she swung her arm out and…

            …Yech.  Don't ever cut anything's head off unless it's damned necessary.  Because it's also farking messy, and Orc blood smells like shit.

            I was hoping and praying that I wouldn't drop my knife, but more that these Orcs would just bugger off and leave us alone.  Especially since we couldn't keep near the horses.  I suppose I didn't really feel any fear, not with already having died once and knowing that this was an afterlife of sorts.  Certainly this was a life _after_ our previous one, although I'm sure that this isn't what the theologians were talking about when they said 'afterlife'.  

            My lack of fear wasn't specifically just because of the fact that I was already dead, because Asfaloth and Elrond's as yet unnamed horse were rearing and snapping and kicking – not a single Orc was getting close enough to do any damage to their hamstrings with those scimitars of theirs.  I turned my attention back to Fe and myself, and how we were going to get the hell away from this.

            I know we each killed at least one.  They smartened up after Fe took the head off the first one, and didn't really get in close enough for us to get at them, but close enough that we both ended up with a couple of cuts from those crappy blades. 

            After a moment or two of this, I was really getting frustrated and pissed off.  I mean, honestly!  You'd think they'd at least let us hit them.  But _no_, they had to shriek and laugh in a horrible manner while teasing us with their blades and trying to get us separated.  I don't know how many of them there were, as we could only see the few that managed to be seen by our fire.  I tried throwing bits of the fire at them, but they ignored it, except the one who's greasy hair caught fire.  The others just laughed at him as he ran around screaming in pain.  I wanted to be sick.  

            I was watching the burning one, and so was Fe, when one got impatient and came forward, scimitar raised above his head, leaving his mid regions completely unguarded.  What a dumbass.  I saw my chance and went for it, being damned sick of this, and wanting to be done with it, and also out of some not quite acknowledged wish to be flashy, and save the day.

            Sidekick to the throat, followed quickly by a roundhouse to the head, and then a punch to the gut and a three-knuckle strike to the solar plexus.  He was wearing armor, and that _hurt_, but he went down anyway, and I was mighty pleased with myself.  I _knew_ all those years of Karate were good for something!  Feeling it all come back to me, I took out another's knees and then grabbed its sword.  Not that I really knew what to do with it; just that the sharp bits were meant for the ones at the other end of it.  

            My heroics turned out to be somewhat pointless, because at that point we were rescued.  The two Orcs that I took out just happened to be the last two that hadn't been shot down by the approaching party of Elves and Men drawn first by the noise that Fe and I were making, and then by the sounds of the Orcs.  Boy did I ever feel stupid, but at least I did my bit.  

            They were staring at us, and I sidled up to Fiona, still holding the sword.  

            "You still here?"  I asked.

            "Yup.  You?"  She looked tired and drawn – and more than a little exhausted.

            "Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."  I was resisting the urge to fall over from both relief and the same exhaustion that Fe must be feeling.  Fighting is hard work, but when it's all said and done…all you're really happy for is that you're not dead and that for now you're safe.  

            "Good."  She said, and grabbed my arm.  I grabbed her back, afraid for a moment that I'd actually end up losing her.  Fe's the best friend I've ever had, and I wasn't about to let those bloody bunyips take that away.  Or the Elves and Men, who were watching us curiously.

            We stood staring at the Men and Elves and the dead Orcs until the silence was broken by a cry.

            "_Minras_!"  We were once again treated to the wonderful view that Glorfy offers as he ran forward to the horse I'd named Asfaloth for lack of a better name.  I felt mildly betrayed when Asfal – I mean, Minras – nuzzled his hand in welcome.  All the same, it was a touching scene, Elf reunited with horse, and it made my heart warm.

            It froze again when Glorfy turned a glare on me.  "What are you looking at me for?" I said defensively.

            "You stole his horse," a new voice said, the epitome of silky sexiness.  And Elf stepped forward, holding a long and rather sharp spear, a circlet of some sort of metal around his head holding his dark hair away from his face, and leaving his clear blue eyes to blaze freely.  This, we found out a moment later, was Gil-galad, King of the Elves.  And if you think my choice of descriptive terms is a little lame, then you should have been there, because – really – no others would fit.  "Although I admit your cleverness in the matter, I am still afraid that I am unsure how it was you managed to actually stay atop the beasts.  They do not carry mortal mounts."

            I shared a look with Fe.  Actually, I looked at Fe and found that I had to nudge her, because she was staring openly at Gil-galad with a look that I felt embarrassed to describe.  When no witty remark from her was forthcoming, I felt I had to step up to bat.

            "Must be our feminine charm."

            There was a snigger from back in the ranks, and I turned my best death glare in that general direction.  They shifted uncomfortably, or that might have been my imagination.  I looked back at Glorfy; he was stroking the horse's nose and whispering to it in Elvish.  Elrond appeared and went for the blood bay, which seemed a little less surly as the Elf approached.

            "Gostanc, my old friend," the Elf said, giving the horse almost named 'Arse Pickle' a pat.  "I trust these women did not trouble you."

            Fiona still hadn't removed her eyes from Gil-galad.  I gave her a harder nudge and she jumped.  "Fe," I whispered.  "Stop oogling the king!"

            "I'm not oogling the king!"

            "Yeah bloody right.  Didn't you tell me that Elves were meant to be beautiful, and not sex objects?"

            "Shut up!"

            I had a hard time not giggling like an idiot, but some how I managed to keep my composure.  Yeah right.  What composure?

            "You have still not answered my question," Gil-galad said, coming forward.  I thought Fe was going to faint.  The guy moved like a cat.  "How did you stay atop the horses?"

            I swallowed and stuck close to Fe, feeling my Jack Russell tendencies starting to wake up.

            "Why do you care?"

            "Because," Isildur answered, coming forward.  "You are thieves, and thieves are punished with death."

            "You have _got_ to be kidding me!" I said, suddenly loud and more than a little annoyed.  "We've already died once today, thank you very much.  And if _you_ hadn't thrown us in some friggin' tent, _we_ wouldn't have had to escape and snark the horses."

            Gil-galad exchanged looks with everyone else, and there followed a quick chatter in Elvish.

            "What do you speak of?  How can one die and yet still live?"  Isildur looked to the Elves for confirmation.

            "Er…" said Fiona.  She pulled me back a foot or two.  "Do you think it wise to let them in on our knowledge of their world?"

            I thought frantically for a moment.  "Prolly not."

            "Me neither."

            "Ladies?  And I use the term loosely," I'm not entirely sure why Isildur had to add that little comment, but both of us turned towards him with the most perfect looks of innocence on our faces, despite dirt and scratches.

            "What?" There we go again, speaking in unison.

            "You have not answered our question."

            "Which question was that?" After all, they had asked several.

            Isildur looked ready to break something, whereas the Elves merely looked annoyed.  Elrond was rolling his eyes again.  I grinned at him.

            "How it was you managed to stay atop the horses."

            "I told you.  It was our feminine charm."  I was indignant.  If they can't listen…a thought struck me.  Isildur didn't listen to anyone after Sauron kicked it.  That was precisely why everyone had to go through this _again_ a couple thousand years down the road.  Jeeze; the whole future of mankind in the balance because one guy was a greedy prick.  What a bastard!

            "No," said Glorfindel, surprising everyone by speaking up.  "It was not that."

            He stepped forward, and it was my turn to nearly faint.  I've always been a sucker for blonde guys…and Glorfy was nearly silver haired. And in the light from their torches and the moon, he glowed.  _And_ he moved like a cat, which in and of itself would have normally been enough to have me drooling.  And since he was in possession of those unbelievably beautiful features…  If he was gay…I was going to have several fits, and none of them would have been pleasant.

            Don't get me wrong though.  If he was, then fine.  It's his life, and I've got no right to interfere.  It would just be a major loss to those of us females who were straight, be them Elves or Humans, who knew masculine beauty when they saw it, if he was gay, and one that would annoy me beyond all reason.

            He stopped just before us – just before me, really, since I'd pushed Fe behind me in one of those typical 'protect the young' gestures.  Look, I know I'm only four months older, but really; she's practically my twin, and that makes her family, and, by all things sacred, I protect my family.

            Anyway, his close proximity – despite the fact that I'd run my hand up and down his arse earlier that day – was making me faint.  He smelled _wonderful_.  But besides that…

            "What is it, Glorfindel?" Gil-galad asked.  

            "There is more to them than meets the eye," he said over his shoulder.  And with that, he took of my hat.

            I was wearing a hat?  Yup, I certainly was.  That was part of the whole 'missing plot chunk' business that I keep meaning to get to.  It was in the backpack; Fe got one too.

            Of course, my hair was down over my ears anyway.  I have a lot of hair.  Reaches nearly to my waist.  Can you see where I'm going with this?  

            Hot _DAMN_, yes, he touched my hair.  Brushed it with those long, fine-boned fingers of his, back over my ears.  Don't ever let anyone tell you that the ears aren't erogenous zones, because they certainly are, and _especially_ when you've got newly pointed ones that were just brushed ever so lightly by the hands of a hot Elf.  I wanted to gibber and run about in a circle and scream and sing and dance and jump and…I could practically sense Fe behind me resigning herself to the soon-to-be repeated girly screams of 'he touched my hair!' which were no doubt going to follow the instant we were alone.

            There were multiple gasps from the general vicinity of the gathered Elves and Men, but I wasn't really paying much attention to anything except the fact that Glorfy _still hadn't let go_ of my hair.

            "As you can see, your Majesty," Glorfindel began,  "they are not mortals."   


	6. Freeze! We're caught

  "As you see, Your Majesty," Glorfindel began. "They are not mortals."

  Damn, there goes all my work to try to hide it from them. Rhiannon wasn't helping things either. She could've played dumb, saying she had some balding or a scar or something…but she was too distracted by that damned hot Glorfindel. If it were me, I could've resisted him easily. Damn Rhiannon and her Elf-fantasies!

  Ereinion Gil-galad looked at Rhiannon and Glorfindel, taking in the sudden disclosure of our short-lived secret. He then looked to me and began towards me.

  I reluctantly, almost automatically, reached up, and pulled the hat from my head, letting the cascades of my fiery gold hair tumble down my back, keeping my gaze to the ground, unable to look at the High King of the Elves.

  My heart was beating strangely rapidly as I sensed Gil-galad handle the curls of my hair before brushing it behind my sensitive Elven ears. He gently ran his finger along the tip of my ear, the feather-light touch causing an electric feeling that made me shiver.

  "You tried to hide this," he said softly in his deep warm voice.

  "We were afraid," I answered, unable to move or do anything but obey his commands. As I said before, I could resist Glorfindel easily…but Gil-galad had weakened my defences. A lot.

  "Afraid of what?"

  "We saw the orcs killing people. So much happened; our reactions were those of fear."

  "To lay a blow to my captain is to be afraid?" Isildur questioned.

  Rhiannon had the sense to look at least a little bit sheepish about that. "No, that was because he wasn't helping us, wasn't being polite, and in short, he's a prick."

  I must agree with you on that, Rhiannon. Actions well justified, even if morally wrong. But I couldn't voice my agreement, not with Gil-galad so close to me as he was.

  Gil-galad seemed to think this over for a moment before saying loudly, "Let us head back to the safety of the camp, lest the orcs return in greater numbers." He said something to Glorfindel in Elven-Speech as the group began to move out. Gil-galad then turned back to me. "You shall ride with me. I do not want any more escapes. It has wasted much of our precious time already."

  Guiltily, I mounted behind him, once again thankful that Elves used tack in war times. The King said nothing, but his horse responded by heading off in a canter. Holding onto Gil-galad's waist to keep myself from falling, I chanced a look back to where Rhiannon's expression was a smug smile from her place behind Glorfindel on Minras, holding on much tighter than necessary, I thought. It seemed strange to me that Glorfindel should have the same she-Elf who felt his arse that morning ride behind him…were these Elves crazy?

  Upon returning to the camp, I found myself separated from Rhiannon- as we had long tried to avoid- and in Gil-galad's tent of all places.

  Get your mind out of the gutter! It was an innocent gesture! Well…I mean, as in we were being interrogated. Gil-galad wanted me to feel comfortable…have you noticed the more comfortable a person is, the more willing they are to respond to questions? That's all it was…

  "Where do you come from?" Gil-galad enquired, as though I weren't a prisoner, pouring two cups of wine.

  "I do not know, sir." I said quietly.

  "What of your parents? And Family?" He asked, handing me one of the goblets.

  "Only Rhiannon." I sipped the drink, never having been much a fan of wine, but I found it was mild and sweet in taste; just how I liked it.

  "How did you come to be here?"

  "We…there was a field- where the orcs were killing people, just before the incident with the captain. I remember nothing more."

  Gil-galad stared at me for a long while before speaking. "So you do not remember from whence you come? Prince Isildur informed me that he asked the same question to which your friend replied 'The Great Beyond', but you both denied it was Númenor of which you spoke. Are you from Aman?"

  "I do not know."

  "Then why give such an answer?" Gil-galad said softly, suspicion rising in his tone.

  I swallowed unconsciously, thinking carefully before I replied and prayed Rhiannon would be answering Glorfindel's questions much the same as I. "It was said without thought; but on thinking, we cannot remember any such place."

  "Do you know what Aman is?"

  "The Blessed Isle, the home of the High Elves, and the place Elves shall seek when they leave Middle Earth. The Ainur reside there; of the Valar and Maiar, only Ulmo, Ossë and Uinen dare venture near Middle Earth again. That is, if they do such anymore."

  "And you knew of the Fall of Númenor." Gil-galad stated, sipping his wine. "How is it that to every question of personal nature you have no answer, but you can remember these events?"

  I opened my mouth, but for a moment no words came out. "I-I do not know."

  Gil-galad looked at me once more. "Do you think perhaps it is possible that you have come from Aman?"

  I thought about it, and what I had said. "I suppose such a notion is not so unconceivable."

  "I believe, my young friend, that the Valar have sent you, to aid our war against the Dark Lord Sauron. I know not how it perceived that you will help us, but I trust to the Ainur's wisdom."

  Ok, that works for me. I'm not in trouble! For the moment…when he finds out that Rhiannon and I are the biggest pair of idiots Middle Earth has ever seen, and that we can't help these guys win the War of the Last Alliance (I mean, gees, they're going to sort of win it anyway…sure, Sauron's gonna be around for a lot longer than was planned…..but there are advantages too! Like…oh, I dunno!

  It suddenly dawned on me Gil-galad had been saying something to me. "Pardon?"

  "It seems to me that a she-Elf needs a name in the Elven tongue. I hope you do not think my presumptuous for taking the right from your parents, but we need a proper name for you." Gil-galad said.

  "If you think I must." I shrugged casually. Damn my hormones must be going mental…

  "Anórmír," Gil-galad smiled gently. "It means Sun-jewel, for your hair is like the red fire of Arien and the same beautiful gold of Laurelin, the Golden Tree."

  I smiled shyly, not sure what else to do or say.

  Gil-galad looked away, for a moment seeming to pull himself from a trance that I wasn't aware he'd been in. "You need to bathe. I shall have a basin of water brought here and some suitable clothing. It would be best if you were to stay here in the tent for the rest of the day until I can think of how to deal with you and your friend." With that he left the inner room of the tent.

**************************************************************************************************************************

Please review!!


	7. Interrogation Glorfy Style

            Right after Glorfy delivered his award winning statement, Gil-galad and I both turned to Fe at the same time.  I noted with reluctance that Glorfy's hand was no longer touching my hair, but he was still standing quite close.

            Fe was staring at the ground, her hat in her hand, and her red-gold hair about her shoulders.  She looked embarrassed that we'd been caught out, which was probably my fault, now that I think of it, because I'd just sat there and let Glorfy take my hat.

            But hell…what was I supposed to do?  If I'd resisted, they likely would have found some reason to kill me.  If I could die again, that is.  I'd already done it once.  Even so, I wasn't up to see if I could again.  

            I watched Gil-galad finger her hair as he pushed it back from her ears and grinned for all I was worth.  Fe must have been close to passing out.  I could sense a Mary-Sue coming on…Ever notice how not cheesy these things are when you yourself is either writing them or experiencing them outright?  Thought you might have…  

            "You tried to hide this," he murmured softly.  

            "We were afraid."  Fe was still looking at the ground.  I almost giggled, but didn't.  I could practically see the puddle of jelly her knees were forming.  She was reacting to Gil-galad almost as bad as I react to Glorfindel.  But I refrained from giggling, for her sake.  No sense in making an already awkward situation worse.

            "Afraid of what?"

            "We saw the Orcs killing people.  So much had happened; our reactions were those of fear."  As good an explanation as any…although I recalled our actions of that morning.  Grabbing some guy who'd just gotten shot and then promptly demanding where we were wasn't exactly what I'd call a 'fear reaction', although that might make sense.  

            Once again, Isildur found it necessary to shove his oar in.  "To lay a blow to my captain is to be afraid?"

            I ducked my head, grin slipping for a moment, cheeks burning with sudden embarrassment.  But then I looked up at Isildur and let loose a barrage of mind bullets.   "You would have too, if you'd been in the same situation.  We needed help, and he wasn't being at all helpful, no to mention he's a bloody bastard."

            It was at that point I caught sight of Captain Arsehole in the group of Men.  Oops.  I grinned at him; he looked none too pleased.

            After a moment in which Gil-galad seemed to think this over, he remarked loudly – without, mind, taking his eyes off Fe – that we should all go back to the camp, lest the Orcs return.  He then told me to ride behind Glorfy, while Fe would ride behind him.

            So that was how I came to be riding Minras again, with Glorfy in front of me, my arms about his waist, and a supremely smug grin on my face.  

            I was on top of the world!

            "So," I said after a bit, to break the ice, as it were.  The first contact that Glorfy had ever had with me had come at the expense of me groping his arse.  It made for an uncomfortable situation.  "How are things?"

            "What things?"  He seemed confused.  Probably because I had his waist in a death grip and wasn't going to let go if he had to get the others to pry me off him with a crowbar. 

            "All things.  The war, and the camp and…what else does one worry about at times like this?"

            "They are as they are."  Score one for Mr. Eloquence.  Neither of us said any thing for a while, and group of Men and Elves were silent in the surrounding moonlight.  Plenty of time for thought, though I would have liked to talk to Fe if she hadn't been riding up with Gil-galad at the head of the column.  Somehow, yelling across didn't seem feasible.  No sense in bringing back those Orcs.  Short of singing, there really wasn't anything else to do but turn my head up and looked at the stars.

            "Who is 'Jebebus'?"

            The question startled me out of my sudden awe of the night sky – so many friggin' stars! – and I looked back down at Glorfy's back.  He'd spoken over his shoulder.  "What?"

            "You said, 'sweet Jebebus.'  I wondered who you were giving oath to."

            "Oh," I said after a moment in which I realized that I must have spoken aloud.  "No one in particular.  Just a word my bro – I mean, that I made up a while ago."  The sudden thought of my family left me sad.  I would never see them again; it hadn't really hit me up until now, and really, in actuality, this realization hurt more than the Mack truck.  At least I still had Fiona.

            "Lady?  Why are you sad?"

            Damn his empathy!  "I'm not.  I'm just…just tired."  It was lame, but true.  I'd had a long day, filled with fanfiction, dying, being captured, escaping, fighting and then being caught/rescued.  It seemed like a forever ago that we were seated in front of Fe's laptop, giggling like school girls on crack about one thing or another.

            I closed my eyes against the sudden tears, and sighed, leaning my head against Glorfindel's back.  I felt him stiffen slightly, but ignored it as the exhaustion and relief caught up with me, and I felt myself drifting to sleep…

            Only to jerk awake as a pair of strong arms were lifting me down from Minras' back.  I snuggled up to whoever was carrying me, though, since they smelled suspiciously like a certain super hot Elf, and was rapidly back to sleep. 

            When I next awoke, it was to the smell of something wonderful.  I sat up from a pile of blankets only to find Glorfindel pouring a glass of something steaming out of a silver pitcher.  He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully.  It was rather chilly, especially in my current attire.  A glance down at my arms told me that my scrapes had been bandaged, although there was no telling what sort of bacteria was trapped in there with the rest of my systems.  If I got sick from this…bah; no matter.  I never did get sick from it, so it's a moot point.

            "How long did I sleep?"  My throat hurt, as it usually did whenever I woke up, and I stared bleary eyed at the gorgeous hunk of Elf across the tent.  

            "Not for long."  Wow…this guy was better at hiding his emotions than Elrond.  Never would have guessed there'd be someone better at pretending to be a Vulcan than Lord "Who-Pissed-In-My-Cornflakes?" Elrond.

            I looked around.  "Where the hell am I?"

            "In my tent." He seemed unbelievably reluctant to admit that.  

            "Your tent?" I guess my eyes went wide, because he dropped the 'emotionless bastard' act and suddenly looked quite embarrassed.

            "Nay, Lady, I took no advantage, although I will admit that it was hard not to, given that you wear less than any lady I have ever laid eyes upon, and yet still are covered."  He was blushing to the tips of his pointy ears.

            Should I take that as a compliment?  Perhaps.  I think what he meant was that 'taking advantage' was hard to avoid due to clothing that wouldn't let him be distant, but I wasn't going to speculate on that until later.

            "Sorry 'bout that."  He looked down for a moment, and I realized how cute guys are when they're embarrassed about such things.  Made me want to cuddle him like a puppy, but I think his ancient Elvish dignity wouldn't have allowed for that.  Pity.

            "How came you by such strange garments?"  He glanced down at my shirt and then looked up really fast.  What the hell?  Oh yeah…it was torn in a few unfortunate places too.  Damn; I'd never find another shirt like this one; what a pisser.  

            I was also of two minds about his reactions.  On one hand, I was flattered that he'd be flustered.  That has to say _something_, right?  On the other hand…they were only breasts, for crying out loud!  Nothing to get all hyped about, really!  But I suppressed these thoughts, and concentrated on a good answer for his question.  

            "I bought them."  That's it… Short answers, Rhiannon, just like your stature.  Fe will kill you if you give away too much, and you've seen enough Star Trek to know that meddling in another's culture is dangerous and stupid.  Then, again, we'd already meddled in their culture, plus, if you want to get technical, it was now _our_ culture.  But still…how the hell would they react to 'yeah, I'm from a time when you world and everything in it is a story invented by a Man named Tolkien several thousand years in what could possibly be the future, and I got hit by a truck and ended up here'?  Not very well, that's for sure.  We'd likely end up in their idea of a mental hospital.

            Hey wait a moment.  Wasn't their idea of a mental hospital Valinor?  The Gardens of Lórien or something like that?  Wasn't it practically Heaven on Earth?  I had read enough of _The Silmarillion_ to know that much…of course, Fe had read more, but…

            Wait…where the hell was Fiona?

            "Where is my twin?"  I looked around quickly, nearly spilling that hot drink.

            "She is with the King."  Looks like he was going for the short answers too.  

            "Doing what?"  Dare I ask?  Thinking back to what she found at the bottom of her backpack…then again, I had found…

            "Being asked many of the same questions that you will be asked."

            I looked suspiciously at him from my place on the blankets.  "Like what?  And are you _sure_ that that's all Gilly-boy will be…" I stopped under his sudden glare, too tired to glare back or I would have.  

            "Do not refer to the King as such."

            "Fine then," I muttered and added a particular insult that would have curled his ears had he known what I'd meant.   He seemed to ignore this, which was probably a good thing.

            To cover my sudden embarrassment, I sipped the steaming cup of…whatever it was, and found it quite to my liking.  And alcoholic.  

            Fe will tell you that I have approximately _zero_ tolerance for alcohol.  Really, it only takes two coolers and I'm snarked, which I have been told is rather pathetic, given the level of alcohol in said coolers.  This stuff had more, so I sipped it _slowly_, even though it was really damned good.  A drunk Rhiannon on Glorfindel's hands would be most amusing, but only in hindsight, and only to other people.

            "So," I said after a while, during which I'd actually twiddled my thumbs.  I'd never done that before…it was quite interesting.  At any rate, this is _not_ how I envisioned my first real encounter with Glorfindel, and, trust me; since the morning, I had envisioned quite a lot of encounters of all sorts with Glorfindel.  This just happened to not be one of the ones that my apparently extensive imagination came up with.  "What did you want to ask me?"

            "The King wishes to know many things."

            "The _King_ wants to know?  I asked what _you_ wanted to know."  Call if flirting if you must, but it was only really half hearted.  I was worried as hell for Fe.  If she was harmed…a certain King could expect repercussions.

            "I wish to know what the King wishes to know."

            I looked closely at him.  The light in the tent was coming from a lantern, and another source that I couldn't identify.  "Why not ask us at the same time?  I mean, don't get me wrong, Glorfy – I don't mind in the slightest being alone with you in a tent – but doesn't this strike you as a bit odd?"  Really, it seemed more to me that they wanted to see whether or not we gave them the same story.  Crafty buggers, they are.

            "No."

            I gave him a look and then shrugged.  "Okay then, what do you and the King want to know?"

            "From where do you come?"  

Shit, shit, shit!  What the hell would Fiona say?  Sometimes, shared minds are not such a bad thing, especially when attempting to keep a story consistent.  "Elsewhere.  Not entirely sure.  I don't remember."  Ah…the blunt approach.  Somehow, Rhiannon, I don't think it's the right one.

            "You told the Prince Isildur that you came from the Great Beyond, but you denied the possibility of Númenór.  Why?"  Damn…this guy sure knew the 'intense' method of questioning.  Made me wonder what sort of questioning she was getting from Gil-galad.

            "Made sense at the time.  I don't remember."

            He paced about the tent for a moment and then turned back to me.  "What do you mean when you said you had already died once?"  He seemed particularly interested in this one.  He even crossed tent and crouched down, leaning his face into mine.  I wanted desperately to back up, but found myself frozen, which wasn't altogether a bad thing.  After all he was _right there_, deep blue eyes staring into mine, a thirst for confirmation of something that had me confused.  All I knew of Glorfindel stemmed from the part in FOTR where he lends Asfaloth to Frodo to get him away from the Ringwraiths.  

            "I – " I stopped and looked down from his intense stare.  "It was a figure of speech."

            "Meaning?"  He seemed disappointed, and I felt the need to ease that.

            "Meaning…something.  Everything is jumbled."  

            He backed up and returned to his pacing about the tent.  "What do you remember then?"  His voice was much softer this time.  The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention, and it suddenly seemed rather chilly.  I wrapped myself in a blanket, hugged the hot drink closer, and cursed silently, wishing that Fe and I had worked out a story.  I knew not to divulge our previous life, but damn it, my big mouth had already spouted too many details that I could not deny now.  "I remember…first thing I remember is the field where we punched out Captain Arsehole."

            "You do not remember how you arrived there?"  Never knew how we got here…I just knew that we walked into the light; the specifics were more than likely beyond me.  Damn it, I should be a politician.  Twisting words seems to be a specialty of mine.

            "Nope."

            "What of any thing before that?"

            "Not particularly, no."  No one thing, anyway.  I remembered lot of things, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

            "Do you remember your family?"  Damn.  He was calling me on the slip up of my brother.  Damn, damn, bloody damn!  "Vaguely.  I know I had…I'm sure I had at least one brother…maybe sisters…but the only family I know now is Fiona."

            I was never much of an actress, and not really a good enough judge of expressions to tell whether or not Glorfy was buying this.  It appeared to be so, although I knew he was more than a little suspicious.  My stubborn denial of anything remotely resembling my past life – not counting the slip-ups from earlier – was more than likely the reason for this.  Not that I blamed him; I'd be suspicious too, if I were him.

            "What is your name?"  Hadn't he heard it earlier?  I was sure that he had.  I told him anyway.

            "Rhiannon."  Boy, did he ever know how to pronounce a girl's name!  Rolled it around in that exquisitely formed mouth of his as though tasting a fine wine (I know, I know…that made me cringe too; can't be helped).  "It is an adequate name."  Hold on…adequate?  As if!  Damn it, my name means 'great' or 'divine queen'!  That's more than 'adequate'!  But he was still speaking, so I didn't interrupt with my righteous indignation.  "Will you permit me to give you a name of Elvish origin, if you have not one already?"

            "If you believe you must," I replied.  I really didn't see what was wrong with mine the way it was, but I was actually quite flattered that he wanted to give me an Elvish name.  

            He looked at me intensely for a moment before he spoke.  "Minaimîr."

            "What?"

            "A new name for you; Minaimîr."

Sounded wonderful.  "What does that mean?"

            He said nothing, and only gave me a tight little smile, the first I'd ever seen cross his features.  I nearly passed out.  After a while, he spoke again.

            "I will have them bring you water that you may bathe, Minaimîr, and clothes more suited for where you are now."

            "Thank you, Glorfindel," I said, and found myself sincere.  Even if I was more than a little confused at the name.  It better not mean the Elvish equivalent of 'dumbass'.

            With a small, slightly formal bow, Glorfindel slipped out of the tent and into…the rest of the tent.  It was a big tent.  With partitions.

I did not have to wait long for the huge basin of steaming water and a cloth – it wasn't big enough to soak in, unfortunately – and clean clothes.  I'd drained my cup of steaming alcohol, so I poured myself another from the jug that was left near by.  By which time I had a rather happy cloud about my mind and was singing very loudly, and likely quite off key, as I bathed myself.  Can't for the life of me remember what I was singing though…

            Halfway through this second glass, I stopped drinking it all together knowing that any more and I'd likely be snarked beyond all redemption.  The clothes provided were hopelessly too big for me, and were likely made for an Elf a great deal taller – that'd be all of them – than I am.  This was going to be interesting, to say the least.  Definitely comfortable, that's for sure.  

            It never did occur to me, however, that if I was sleeping in Glorfindel's tent…where the _hell_ was he going to sleep?

            By morning I had my answer.               


	8. The Bad Touch of Alcohol

A/N: I hope you will forgive the length of time it took to update this story. BoL and I (Anon E. Mus) have had some minor arguments over points of what I have written for this chapter…which is why there has been a slight…*choke*…delay. Anyhow, it's here for you to enjoy once again from "Fiona's point of view".

************************************************************************************************************

  The water in the basin was hot, but I found it rather chilly standing naked in Gil-Galad's tent, trying to give myself a bath with a cloth. I was glad when I could put clothes on. My back was to the tent 'door' if you can call it that, since I was paranoid about somebody walking in on me. The wind had picked up sometime between my interrogation and when Gil-galad brought the basin of water in. I was surprised he'd seen to it personally.

  The wind blew now, rustling the fabric of the tent, but the pegs held the tent strong and now wind got in to chill me. Something I was grateful for.

  I looked on the clothes Gil-galad had left for me and realised there was definitely no underwear…and I was _not going commando! The image of myself having to run without a bra made me giggle (you don't have to think about it you don't want- I'm not forcing you to!). Therefore I reached into my bag (which the Men and Elves had still forgotten to confiscate, though this was much to my advantage), and shuffled through until I reached those certain embarrassing items at the bottom. Sifting through them, I found the most decent pieces of underwear that there was- and there wasn't much of a choice to begin with- and slipped them on. I noticed that quite a lot of it was black. There was red and white, but the majority of the lingerie was black. And all of it was silk._

  Alright, I'm sure I've given too much information, but it's easier for me to explain this now than later when such knowledge will be necessary for your understanding of my side of the story.

  I pulled on the soft Elven garments- shirt, tunic and leggings- and turned around. I froze, choking on my very breath.

  Freaking mother of crap!

  Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, I didn't realise you were still dressing," he said calmly, as if nothing had happened.

  "How long have you been standing there!?" I demanded, shocked beyond manner and reasoning.

  "Only a moment. I am sorry to have interrupted. But as you see, there are no doors to knock upon." He couldn't hold back a smile, watching my flustered reaction. "I doubt I saw anything that you believe I have, which has caused you alarm."

  It took me a moment longer before I realised how rude I'd been about something which had clearly not happened. Oh, you know what I mean! "I'm sorry, I didn't…I shouldn't have been so rude."

  Gil-galad inclined his head in acknowledgement. "If you care to join me, we will walk the Elves' camp-" 

  I could've killed Elrond when he interrupted. My stomach was doing all kinds of flip flops and with butterflies to boot. Damn it! I was enjoying myself! That might have had something to do with the way Gil-galad seemed to be broaching a territory in which he was not the confident, calm and collected High King of the Elves. Hee hee hee…

  "My Lord King, Lady Anórmír," Elrond inclined his head. His mouth twitching with amusement, he continued. "Lady, there seems to be…a disturbance…with your friend."

  My face fell. Fucking bloody hell…what was Rhiannon doing _now_?

  Without hesitation, I marched out of the huge tent- the flap openings fluttered in the breeze so it was fairly obvious as to how I was to get outside. From there, my hearing could easily pick up the sound of Rhiannon singing and I headed quickly in the direction of her voice (which was none too sweet, but all too loud and clear as she is when drunk).

  Glorfindel stood to one side, along with many other Elves, I have to add, watching Rhiannon dance (if she were back home, there'd be no problem, but clearly this sort of dancing was not acceptable in this place and Age). I was about to step in and stop her from singing whatever song it was she had been singing before, but she saw me and started the song all over again. I froze in astonishment.

_Sweat baby sweat baby sex is a Texas drought   
Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about   
So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts   
Yes I'm Siskel yes I'm Ebert and you're getting two thumbs up   
You've had enough of two-hand touch you want it rough you're out of bounds   
I want you smothered want you covered like my Waffle House hashbrowns   
Come quicker than FedEx never reach an apex like Coca-Cola stock you are inclined   
To make me rise an hour early just like Daylight Savings Time _

  Why, oh why, could not the earth just open and swallow me up? I imagine that if Rhiannon had been in the state of mind to realise exactly what she was doing, she'd feel much the same. But then again, if she were in the state of mind to realise what she was doing, chances are, she wouldn't have done it at all.

  I turned to Glorfindel. "You gave her alcohol, didn't you?" I queried despairingly.

  Glorfindel glanced at me and then turned as Rhiannon continued her singing into the chorus…

_Do it now   
You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals   
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel   
Do it again now   
You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals   
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel   
Gettin' horny now _

  "Glorfindel," I began suspiciously, before realising that I probably shouldn't be addressing him by his first name. Damn formalities! "My Lord," I added quickly, my tone not leaving behind its sarcastic edge. "Did you per chance give my sister wine? Of any sort?"

  This time Glorfindel seemed better able to tear his attention away from Rhiannon's singing and dancing, as he replied, "I did indeed pass the Lady a goblet of wine whilst I asked her of whence she came." He glanced at Rhiannon and then back at me. "My Lady, these songs should not be sung by your sister. I am astounded that a Lady would know such a song! These…topics…are not suited for Ladies to hear."

_Love the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket   
Like the lost catacombs of __Egypt__ only God knows where we stuck it   
Hieroglyphics? Let me be Pacific I wanna be down in your South Seas   
But I got this notion that the motion of your ocean means "Small Craft Advisory"   
So if I capsize on your thighs high tide B-5 you sunk my battleship   
Please turn me on I'm Mister Coffee with an automatic drip   
So show me yours I'll show you mine "Tool Time" you'll Lovett just like Lyle   
And then we'll do it doggy style so we can both watch "X-Files" _

  Rhiannon's singing was attracting more attention. I looked around desperately for something, maybe or pole or stick so I could whack her over the head and knock her unconscious with, but instead my eyes found Gil-galad at the front of the crowd. When I looked at him, his gaze was not focused on Rhiannon as all others were, but on me. Normally I would have blushed, but seeing him, gave me inspiration for a plan to get Rhiannon to quiet down.

  "My Lord, is there a tent that we may take my sister to?" I asked.

  "There is my own, as the Lady Minaimîr came from just now." Glorfindel replied.

  I pointedly ignored the fact that he didn't look at me when he spoke; his eyes were firmly glued back on Rhiannon's form, as she continued her sensual dance.

  I know, Rhiannon, I'm sorry. 'Sensual' is a despicable word, when you were only dance the way most people do when in a nightclub, but this wasn't a nightclub, and to Glorfindel, I imagine it was among the most…I don't think there's even a word for it…dancing he'd ever witnessed.

  "Go up to her and make it a suggestion," I advised. I don't think at that point Glorfindel got my line of thinking. But then, I don't think that he was thinking at all…at least, not with his head.

  "Are you sure she would come with me? I do not wish to hurt her should she refuse," Glorfindel queried.

  "Just tell her that she needs to come back to your tent. I doubt she'll protest in the least," I answered, crossing my fingers. I knew how she felt about Glorfindel; so as long as it was _Glorfindel taking her back to __his tent…no problems._

  May I gloat now? I've had many moments of genius, but I feel this one is the one to top them all. Possibly because it was as much funny as brilliant. None of the others have ever had me laughing so hard once I was out of hearing range.

  Glorfindel stepped into the circle of Elves where Rhiannon was dancing and she stopped almost immediately. "Minaimîr, my Lady, will you come with me?" he asked gently, holding out his hand.

  She accepted his hand without question, but questioned, "Where are we going now?"

  "To my tent, Lady," Glorfindel smiled.

  I don't think he realised that she would take it the way I knew she would take his offer, but the smile on his face suggested to her the _real_ meaning of what I wanted her to think. I wish you all could have been there to see the wicked grin that lit her face he said that.

  "Let's go then!" she declared, the Elf-crowd clearing a path for them.

  I sniggered and tried to cover my mouth to hide the grin and laughter behind it. My glory and amusement was short lived however, as I felt a hand upon my shoulder. I turned to find Gil-galad, smiling down at me.

  I'd always know he was tall; taller than me, certainly. But it never struck me about how tall, until that moment, when I had to tilt my head back to look at his face. Wow…he's awe-inspiring when you see him for the first time, but seeing him from such proximity? Unspeakably…_wonderful_…

  "I believe, my Lady, that I promised to show you around the camp of the Alliance?" he murmured in his deep rich voice, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.

  "Of course," I smiled back, trying to seem calm, but probably failing badly.

  Give me a break, if _you were the one suddenly in Middle Earth and meeting an Elf for the first time,, you'd be just as…speechless…as I was. I fumbled for words constantly, just trying to make light-hearted jests about the place, as Gil-galad showed me around. He didn't seem to notice when I stuttered or hesitated (or that I wasn't really paying attention to where I was, instead concentrating on his beautiful voice…)._

  It was definitely evening by the time, Gil-galad took me back to his tent, although I did not consciously acknowledge it. Dinner was served upon a small table- Gil-galad's desk- but where only a single chair and waited before, now there were two.

  The evening meal was a quiet affair, with only Gil-galad breaking the silence to remark, "The song your sister sang, the likes of which have never been heard before in Middle Earth. What is it called? And how did she come by it?"

  "I believe," I replied hesitantly; I was touching upon dangerous grounds which could reveal our true origins…as you must have figured out by now, I was certainly _not_ going to mention 'how she came by it'. "That the song is called, 'The Bad Touch', my Lord." Did I mention before that I _loathe formalities? I was sure I said the wrong thing, but Gil-galad showed no sign that I had addressed him improperly, so I continued. "I do not recollect how she came by it, only that it is seems familiar to my ear."_

  Gil-galad nodded, then polished off the rest of his meal. I looked at the amount left of the plate, and grimaced. It surprised me that during war-time, they could have so much food to offer; too much for me to eat, and back home I usually cleaned my dinner plate like a vacuum. Then again, it was never half the size of what the Elves had offered me here. I settled my cutlery neatly on the plate and glanced around the tent. There was a bed, to one side, not much more than many fine decorated blankets on the tent floor. Presumably you'd climb under as many as the weather demanded.

  "No doubt you are wondering where you will be sleeping, during your time here," I heard Gil-galad say.

  Almost guiltily, I looked back at him. His beautiful eyes sparkled with the amusement that was evident by his expression.

  "It had just occurred to me now, yes," I answered with a small smile, looking demurely down at my hands twisting in my lap. His gaze was so intense.

  "You will sleep there," he gestured at the bed I'd be analysing. "I thought it best to keep you close."

  "As you wish," I agreed softly. He thought it was best to keep me close; and in response to that I had two questions – 'Just me?' and 'Why?' I did not voice them though. I strongly suspected, in fact I was almost completely positive, that he had just given me his own bed. I wondered dreamily whether he'd be sharing it with me. Part of my mind shrieked at the notion and firmly told it that it wasn't prudent or proper for me to sleep with an Elf I'd only met that day, and knew only as he appeared. The rest of my mind, coupled with my eager body, squealed in delight and anticipation. I'd never felt like that for _anybody_, and I think I shocked myself with how I could openly admit that I was attracted- in more ways than one- to this High King of Elves.

  I felt Gil-galad's hand on my shoulder and I shook my head, trying to focus properly.

  "You are tired, Anórmír," he said softly, even gently. "Rest now."

  I gave him a tired smile and he helped me over to the bed. I must admit, that propriety-concerned part of my mind screamed when I considered the possibility that I had been right in guessing he was going to join me…but no such luck. _Did I just think that??_

  I was vaguely conscious of the fact he went back to his desk and I was almost asleep with my drowsy consciousness alerted to the gentle stroking of my long hair.


	9. From Hangover to Hot Damn!

            He slept in another part of the tent.  Hah…I bet you thought I was going to say that when I'd woken up in the morning, he'd been sleeping next to me.  Alas, 'twas not so. When I awoke, all I had was a nasty headache.  No Elf snuggling for me.  Not now, at any rate.  Damn.

            After staring at the tent ceiling for a while as I worked out and remembered all the details from the day before, I found my view blocked by someone's head.  It turned out to be Glorfy.

            "Minaimîr," he said, and for a moment I forgot that it was my new name.  "The king wishes to speak with you."

            "Oh joy."  I wasn't in the best of moods.  I had a horrible headache, and I'd just remembered that not only was I apparently dead, but I was never going to see any of my family again.  Unless I stuck around for a while, and didn't go to Valinor when the last boat passed; but that was a decision for later.  I buried my head under the covers and groaned.  

            "Minaimîr," he said warningly.  "The king is not to be taken lightly."

            "Piss off."

            He sighed and I was left alone for a moment.  Before Fe came in.

            "Well," she said with complete and total disregard for the fact that I had a whopper of a headache, "that was some lovely singing yesterday."  

            Yesterday?  What the hell?  I poked my head out from under the covers and glared up at her, a sudden knot of dread getting to me.  "What do you mean?"  I remembered singing – possibly dancing – but could not, for the life of me, remember what.  Or where the rest of the time had gone.  I had apparently missed an entire day…how odd.  

            "I must say that I like the original better; it's more on key, but other than that, your rendition of Bad Touch wasn't all that bad."

            Bad Touch?  What the…?  Oh no!  Someone please tell me that I hadn't been singing _that_ song at the top of my lungs!  

            Fiona must have read the expression on my face correctly as she blasted me with a mega-grin.  I went back under the covers, too embarrassed to let myself be seen for the moment.

            "That's right!" she sounded much too chipper for this early in the morning.  "You serenaded us with a particularly…blunt, Bloodhound Gang song.  Not to mention a lovely dance."

            "Oh shit."

            "If," she continued, "you feel the need to blame your antics on someone else, feel free to blame it on Glorfindel.  He's the one who gave you alcohol, after all."

            "Yeah, but I'm the one who drank it!"  My face was burning, and I just _knew_ the blush was creeping downwards.  "Are you _sure_ that it was Bad Touch I sang?"

            "Quite."

            "Shit."  I followed with a barrage of swearwords that I shan't repeat, because I'm too polite when not hung-over.  How the hell was I going to show my face around the camp ever again? 

            "Anyway, it's time for you to get up now."

            "My head hurts."  I know I was whining, but…Bad Touch?   Of all the…!  Maybe with this excuse I could stay here in the tent, where no one would have to see me.  

            "Gil-galad wishes to speak to you."

            "Oh," I said, somehow managing to be sarcastic despite the hour and pain in my skull, "on a first name basis, are we?"  When no answer was forthcoming, I peeked out from under the blankets.  It was _her_ turn to blush, goddamnit!  

            And, by Jove, she was!  Only other time I've seen her such a colour is after her…well, I'll get to that bit later.  And there was one other time, and I'm coming up to that quite soon…

            "His name is Ereinion.  His _epessë_ is Gil-galad."

            I said nothing and raised an eyebrow, not wanting to know at that time what the bloody fark an _epessë_ was; I didn't care.  Her colour deepened.  

            Anyway, when she composed herself, she finally managed to drag me out from under the covers and coerce me into putting on some other clothes than the massively oversized ones that I was wearing.  I spared a moment's thought as to whether or not they were Glorfy's.  And then realized that I such a pastime probably wasn't the best one for me.

            Nevertheless, as I was changing out of the huge shirt, I did chance to inhale – rather deeply, I might add – and yes, it was Glorfy's shirt.  Unless _all_ male Elves smell like that…in which case, I wasn't very particular to which Elf's shirt it was. 

            They'd somehow managed to find clothes that would fit me.  I'm not entirely sure _how_  - nor would you be, given how farking tall everyone is around here – or where they'd gotten them from, but they were (relatively) clean and fit me better than Glorfy's had.  They also made me look like a guy, if that was at all possible.  My old clothes were nowhere to be seen.

            If they'd burned them…oooo…I was going to kill, and it wouldn't be pretty.

            "So," I said to Fiona, who was – as her modesty code dictates – waiting for me on the other side of the partition.  "What does good ol' Gilly want with me?"   Headaches have always caused me to be more sarcastic than ever.  This probably wasn't a good thing, given our circumstances, but I'd lighten up – maybe – if someone would be kind enough to give me the local equivalent of an aspirin.  I looked down at the ties and strings in my hand.  "And how do these damned pants work, anyway?"

            "The High King Gil-galad," Glorfy answered for my twin, putting major emphasis on Gilly's title, "has said only that he wishes to speak to you.  He has not told me of what."  Glorfy was there too?  Damn…perhaps the 'good ol' Gilly' comment had not been prudent.

            "Right then," I said, moving on to the second half of my question and bypassing Glorfy's comment completely.  "How the hell do these damned pants work?  These aren't going to stay up…" I trailed off as I realized what Fiona must have been thinking at that very moment.  I stuck my head around the partition, fixed my eyes on her, and gave her a major glare.  "Don't even _think_ about saying what just came into your head," I said and then gave Glorfy a glare for good measure.  "Same goes for you."  I went back behind the partition to pretend that I couldn't hear Fe's smothered sniggers.

            "So you do not wish me to explain to you the nature of pants?"  Hark!  Was that a sarcastic comment from Hotness, Sweetness and Light INC?  I stuck my head back around the partition and gave Mr. Hotness a particularly evil glare, still ignoring Fe's not-quite-so-smothered-anymore sniggers.

            "That's not what I meant," I said through clenched teeth.  I stepped the rest of the way around the partition, holding the foreign pants up to my waist.  Of course, I'd neglected to put the shirt on, so I was standing there, in me bra (thankfully I'd had the presence of mind to stick that in my still present backpack!  Not so thankfully, the damn thing was an underwire of the shiny teal variety.), with the pants held up, lest they pool about my ankles.  

            It became increasingly difficult to ignore Fe, especially since she was now laughing outright and making no effort to stop.

            Nudity is one thing Fe will avoid, but we were both females, and bras are like bikinis anyway.  She wasn't too surprised by the sight.  Glorfy, on the other hand, looked shocked for an instant and then his face was suddenly expressionless.  He was staring directly at my face.  And still looking damn hot, I might add, despite the sudden lack of expression.  

            "What I meant, Glorfy," I eventually managed to continue, still through clenched teeth, "is for you not to get any stupid ideas.  Now…is there a belt that I might use, or are you going to tell me how these bloody damn pants work?"

            I suppose I could have asked Fe, but she was too far-gone in giggles to be of any help.  She was wearing an outfit very much like the one I'd been given, and had quite obviously gotten the pants to work - somehow.  They had some weird-assed system of ties…Lord knows they couldn't have just done a drawstring. 

            Somehow she managed to come forward anyway, and drag me back behind the partition.  It was a wonder, only because she couldn't seem to stop giggling.  Largely through charades, she told me how the damn things work.  And then she slipped back out, pausing only to add that it might be a good idea if I appeared before the king _wearing_ my shirt.

            I gave her a dirty look.

            Some time later, we finally made it before the King, or rather, as I called him, 'good ol' Gilly.'  He looked hot, serene, impartial, imperial and…hot.  Fe seemed agree.  At least, she didn't take her eyes of Good ol' Gilly almost the entire time, and I can't say that I blame her.  That Elf knew how to move…of course Glorfy…don't get me started on how Glorfy moves.  Because I won't ever stop.  Fe learned that lesson rather quickly within a couple of days.

            "Minaimîr," Gil-galad began, and once again it took me a moment to realize I was being spoken to.  I guess Glorfy told him of the name change.  "I must ask you to explain your actions and answers of yesternight."

            "Which ones would those be, sir?"  'Your Majesty' would have been better, but I was awestruck.  It's not often that one is in the company of an Elvish king, who also happens to be a _hot_ Elvish king.  I know Fe was having a hard time not passing out.  And, through it all, I still had the urge to be cheeky.  I did think that perhaps I was having _too_ much fun, but…hell.  Fun is fun.

            "The answers you gave to Glorfindel, and your…singing."  He seemed quite reluctant to call it that.  I didn't blame him at all.  As for the answers…

            I tried real hard to remember what those had been.  I really did.  But I had a whopper of a headache and…and, apparently, an entire day had gone missing.  "What did you want explained about them, sir?"

            "Why you gave such ambiguous and yet suspicious answers to straightforward questions, and how they still managed to match those of your sister."

            I shot Fe a look, and she gave me a tight little smile.  Seems we'd done it again.

            "Because we've had the same experiences?" I ventured.

            "Yet you have let slip several things to which no answer other than 'I do not remember' has been given.  And then there is the matter of your…" he paused and sighed.  "Song."

            I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.  "I honestly don't remember what it was I was singing, sir."

            So help me, he quoted it.  In a fairly good rendition too…I stood there, chin to my chest, and all I could do was stare.  Fiona was in pretty much the same state, I imagine…she had a much bigger crush on the dude than I did.  Even Glorfy seemed uncomfortable.  Given the content of the song…

            "Do you remember it now?" he asked when he finished the first verse.  

            "Er…" I looked at Fiona and she barely shrugged, eyes wide.  "Vaguely."

            "From where did you come by it?"

            "In a tavern," I answered.  Close enough.  I'd heard it in the pub at school, but that wasn't the only place.  I shared another look with Fiona and barely shrugged.

            "Is that tavern where you also learned your particularly unique style of dance?"  Was that a grin?  I couldn't be sure.  He seemed rather stern.

            "Dance?"  Hadn't that part just been a dream?  I tried looking at Fe again, but she wouldn't meet my eyes this time.  She was apparently either embarrassed or grinning.  I couldn't tell.  "What dance?"

            A snort drew my attention back towards the Elves in front of me.  Captain Arsehole had made his presence known.  "I do not doubt she learned her trade in a tavern.  No doubt she sold herself for copper pennies to whomever passed by."

            For the second time in as many days Captain Arsehole found himself flat on his back, staring up at the sky.  No, I didn't punch him out – not this time.  This time it was Glorfy who was nursing the sore knuckles and glaring.  Fe was two steps away from the moron when he fell.  I would have reacted after a second or two – whereby I allowed my brain to register what it was the bastard had said – but, since I didn't get that second, I was still looking rather bemused – Glorfy stood up for my honour?  Since when?  Jeeze, the way I act around him I would have thought that…alright, alright!  Back to the story – I was still looking rather bemused when Fe walked up to Captain Arsehole, hands clenched at her side.

            She growled, a look upon her face that would have embarrassed an erupting volcano into crystallizing rapidly.  I realized what it was she was about to do – she made a none-too-subtle shift of weight to one foot and drew the other back.  "You don't speak to my sister like that."  With that, she let loose a kick to the groin that I'm sure would have lifted the guy right off the ground had he been standing.  I had to wonder if Fe had ever played soccer and made a mental note to never get on her bad side if I could ever avoid it.  I noticed several males in the near vicinity cringing – I didn't blame them.  She drew back her foot to kick again as the Captain curled up in a little ball on the ground, hands between his legs and whimpering, when Gil-galad stopped her with a hand on the shoulder.    

            Wait…was he fingering her hair in a subtle manner?  Hee hee!  First Glorfy stood up for my honour (however much of it there is), now Gil-galad was fingering Fe's hair!  Oh happiest of happy days!  This was too much, but I suppressed a giggle, because at that moment there was a sharp pain in my skull.  In the excitement, I'd forgotten about my headache.  

            "Enough, Anórmír, Glorfindel," he said.  So that was Fiona's new name!  I'd been wondering, and she hadn't told me yet.  "I think he has learned his lesson."  He leaned over the prone Captain, amusement present in his features, mixed with the pity only a male can have for another who has been kicked in the most tender of places.  "Have you not, Captain Dúmassë?"

            Had I heard that right?  The guy's name was Dúmassë?  Oh boy!  That was too perfect!  This time, I couldn't stop the snigger, and neither could Fe.  We shared another look.

            "Dumbass!" We said together and broke down into giggles that rapidly evolved in to full out laughter as the hilarity of the situation got us going.  By the time Gil-galad and the others attempted to calm us down, we were leaning on each other for support with one hand each, the others clutching our bellies as we laughed and laughed.       

              A great deal of time later – after we had calmed down a little from our bout of the giggles – we ended up on the practice field.  I guess Glorfy and His Royal Superiority Complex got the idea in their heads that we'd been sent by the Valar to help them in their battle against the Dark Lord and so we needed to be trained.  I don't know where they got this from, as most of the discussion after the Captain was helped off to a tent I can't remember because I spent a great deal of it wishing everyone would just _shut up_ due to a terribly sore skull which giggling hadn't helped.  I was sorely tempted to blame Glorfy for giving me alcohol, but then, I did drink it.  Blaming someone else wouldn't make the headache piss off.

            In fact, I still had the headache by the time we made it to the practice field, although it'd subsided a little.  This was largely to do with what happened _just before_ we went out on the practice field, which I will explain now.

            Captain Dúmassë arrived on the scene looking sullen and a little tender in some areas.  He had a rather nasty black eye, thanks to Glorfy, and really wasn't at all pleased.  I didn't blame him, and actually felt a little sorry for him, but hell…that's what he gets for calling me a whore when Fiona's around.  If Fe hadn't been around, I would have handled it, but…I suppose I am a little bit…obvious at times.  I guess I had it coming.  Oh well.  That thought wasn't going to stop me from having any more 'fun'…

The Captain handed some Elf – who, like his kin, was damned hot but as of yet had no name – two bundles, and then stalked off, although his walk was a little gingerly.  The Elf handed us the bundles, which turned out to be some chain mail looking stuff and some tunics to go under, and then directed us to a tent which he said would likely be ours for the remainder of our say here.  This was not at all like the tents that we'd spent the previous night in (i.e.: me in Glorfy's, Fe in Gilly's), and was actually a great deal smaller and nowhere near as comfortable, but we knew enough to keep our mouths shut on that particular point.  At least the damned thing had partitions, for which Fe was thankful.  

            I, on the other hand, had spent a few years sharing a room with my two younger – and less modest – sisters.  Changing in front of other people was a habit, and I didn't care much.  A cursory yell of 'don't look unless you want to be blinded' is usually applied, or my all time favourite (and the one I used then), 'the bra's coming off!'  The fact that Fe had shared a room with a younger sister didn't escape me, but she was always the more modest.  I couldn't help but think that she should perhaps not be, and it became my secret mission to corrupt her to the ways of the taboo-free, but that was a thought for later.

            Anyway, I began putting on the chain mail – which is _damned cold_, I might add, a fact they neglected to mention when they gave us the stuff – and had finally realized how the stuff was shaped, and that it was going to be a great deal of _fun_ wearing it, and was picturing the look on Glorfy's face if he ever saw me in –

            "I am _not_ going out dressed like this!" 

            The indignant shout drew my attention away from the Elf of my affection and towards the partition, from where Fe had exclaimed.  She threw back the curtain, and I suddenly grinned, headache forgotten for the moment.  

            "What's wrong with it?"

            "It's indecent!"

            "It's fun!"

            "For you, Miss Walking-talking Hormone, but not for those of us who aren't always throwing themselves at every young man to walk by."

            "I do not!"  Only the hot ones!  And that's usually because so many of them seem to not notice me anyway, I thought I might as well do something to remedy the situation and have fun at the same time.  "Anyway," I continued, fighting a blush rather unsuccessfully.  "If you knew it was indecent, why the hell did you put it on?"

            See?  This is what I meant by one of the other times that Fiona went that colour I was speaking of.  It was all rather amusing, despite the pain behind the temples of my skull.  Personally myself, I thought she looked rather fetching in that skimpy, chain mail get up.  A little too 'bondage', really, but…

            Honestly, it looked like something out of a Larry Elmore drawing.  If you don't know who that is, I suggest you look him up.  

            "I cannot believe the Elves would clothe their female warriors in such," Fiona said, looking down again at the rather broad swaths of skin showing everywhere about her person.  It was pale skin too, because she doesn't like going out in anything less than a t-shirt.  Can't say that I blame her, what with that hole in the ozone over Australia.  

"Did they even have female warriors?"  I had to ask.  This whole costume smacked of human males.  I may have an active interest in them, but I still know that most of them are total bastards.  So far, the complete opposite of all the male Elves we had met thus far.  

"They do now," she said wryly and tried to get an idea about what the rest of her looked like by twisting around.  The chain-mail bras were quite interesting – ultimate in under-wire.  She patted her toned stomach and made some remark about how she was flubby.  I told her to stop being such a wanty-paist and to quit her fussing.  

            Anyway, no one got to say any more – even though Fe was just about to change back into her borrowed clothes – because at that point, the Currently Unnamed Elf threw back the flap of the tent to let the sunlight in on two hardly dressed, newly Elvish women glaring at one another across the tent.  

            "If you take so long every day to prepare yourself, it will likely end in death, should an attack come..." the Elf trailed off, looking from one of us to the either.  He cleared his throat.  "Follow me."  With an abrupt turn, he faced the other direction and his eyes glazed over.  I noticed – though it may have just been the light – that his ears were a little pink.

            You know how I said before how Gil-galad had a voice that was the epitome of silky sexiness?  Well, now he's got a rival.  Now if only I knew what his name was… 

            Of course, Fe wasn't having any of my Elf drooling and dragged me out into the sunshine, past the Currently Unnamed Elf, and likely against her better judgement because she'd just shouted that she'd never go out in public like this.  It was truly a marvel that she was emerging from the tent, and I hope Gilly was going to be appreciative of the effort it took for her to step out.

            Granted, she was also annoyed that she had even put the stuff on, and that probably didn't make her think, but…hey.  My plot to rid her of taboos was progressing wonderfully, even if I hadn't really thought of how I was going to go about doing so yet.  It had just been an idea…this was just helpful to that end. 

            We got the chance to see the reactions of the other Elves rather soon.  A Man – with a smirk – handed us swords and pointed to the practice field.  That sword was so friggin' heavy…how the hell did they expect us to fight with this thing?  The other Elves just stared in shock, as though they'd never seen two females with so few garments on.  They probably hadn't.  Whatever.  There's a first time for everything and everyone…

            The Currently Unnamed Elf walked with us out to the field, glaring in the general direction of any who attempted to whistle or stare at us.  This armour was not designed for practicality.  

            "I can't believe I'm in public dressed like this," Fiona said, leaning close to my head.  I don't think she realized the view of her cleavage that she just presented to the entire camp when she bent over.  I didn't tell her, knowing she'd never set foot outside ever again if I did.  

            "Just grin and bear it," I replied.  "It could be a lot worse."

            "How could this be worse?" she seemed slightly angry and more than a little self-conscious.  I didn't blame her in the slightest, but I pushed my own uncertainty down and stared directly ahead.

            I smirked wryly.  "We could be naked."

            The Currently Unnamed Elf stopped us in the middle of the field, and every man present gathered around to watch the proceedings.  "I apologize for the armour," he said.  "When Captain Dúmassë told me of the presence of armour for Ladies, I did not realize that this is what he meant."

            "It's alright," I said for the both of us.  

            "For you, maybe," Fiona said in a sharp whisper, "but I actually feel like I _am_ naked!"

            "It is a bit drafty," I amended.

            "A bit!" 

            "Just think of what Gil-galad will say when he sees you!" I whispered back cheerfully.  

            Fe gasped and looked around suddenly, scanning the ring of people, no doubt, for Gil-galad.  "Oh god!  Why did you have to make me think of that?"  I grinned.

            The Currently Unnamed Elf watched us, but made no remark on our whispered conversation.  "I am Gildor," he began.  So that's what his name was!  "I will be your teacher in the art of swords.  Where did you get those?" He gestured to the swords that the guy had handed us.

            "That man over there handed them to us," Fe said, gesturing in the general direction of the guy who'd given them to us.

"They're farking heavy," I added.

Gildor looked them over.  "They were made for men much bigger and stronger than you," he said after a quick assessment.  He turned to another Elf and gave a command in Elvish.  The Elf moved off.

"He will find swords more fit for you, as well as armour."

Both Fiona and I were relieved.  Slinky armour is all well and fun and good, when it isn't nippy and windy, and there isn't a large ring of men watching and muttering their disappointment at the changes to the scene that Gildor was making.  I suppose this was a taste of my own medicine – I didn't like it, but I recognized a chastising by fate when I saw it, and so kept my mouth shut.  

It was that moment that Gil-galad, Elrond and Glorfy chose to show up, right when it was nice and predictable.  We found this out because someone – with a damn sexy voice – bellowed, "What is the meaning of this?" at the top of his lungs.  We turned around.  

"We're learning the sword, your majesty, just as you ordered."  I could tell Fiona was shocked…for once I paid some respect to his title!  It was definitely a first.  I just figured 'Your Royal Superiority Complex' wouldn't have gone over very well at that juncture in time.

"Where did you come by such armour?"

I noticed Fe was alternating between staring at the ground and staring at Gilly.  Her face was also beet red and she was having trouble speaking.  If this lasted much longer, she was going to pass out.  

"The situation is already being remedied, my Lord," Gildor put in.  "I have sent for some proper armour for the Ladies, as well as swords more fit for their build."

"Good, Gildor.  Now, please tell me who was behind this."

The conversation between the two Elves switched to Elvish and Fe and I were at a loss to follow.  I did, however, get some good Glorfy staring in, as he was right there and looking as damnably hot as ever.  I guess I made him uncomfortable – his ears went a little pink and he kept swallowing a lot, looking everywhere but at me.  Boy, this was fun!

After a moment, another Elf was sent, returning with speed with a rather annoyed and tender looking Captain Dúmassë.  Even _he_ could speak Elvish!  This was unfair.  

After a good long while, the Captain came over to us.  "I'm sorry," he stated in a voice that clearly said that he wasn't, "that I insulted your honour by giving you such things to wear and by calling you a whore."  At least, that's what I hope he said.  By the end of it, he was grumbling and it was hard to make out his words.  Ah whatever.  I decided to give the guy a break.

"And I'm sorry for decking you.  And for Fe kicking you in the balls.  And for laughing at your name."  He looked a little taken aback at this, so I grinned at him in what I hoped to be a disarming manner.  Didn't work.  He gave me a look, about faced, and marched off.

At that point, the other Elf returned with the new armour and swords, and we returned to the tent to change.  This armour was actually a bit of a pain to get on and it took us quite a while to work out how the damn things were supposed to work.

By the end of this, Glorfy had to come in and help.  After we had the under parts on.  He absolutely refused to come into the tent until we both admitted that we were decent.  And I mean actually decent.  The one time I tried to get him to come in while I was still wearing as little as possible, Fe ruined by yelling "She's still naked!" at the top of her lungs for the whole camp to hear.  There followed an argument between the two of us.  It sounded something like this:

"How the hell would you know if I'm naked or not?  Are you spying on me, Anórmír?"  I uttered her Elvish name with more than a little sarcasm.

"I was not spying on you, Minaimîr!" Fe answered in much the same tone as I had just used.

"Yeah bloody right," was my response.  I love getting her worked up like this…it doesn't take much.  Of course, the downside to this is that she takes (quite rightly) full revenge by getting me worked up, and really, that takes even less effort than calling Gil-galad 'Uncle Gilly".  But at the moment I was only being a tease, and hoped that she knew that.  Or else I was going to be the victim of some major pranks later on.  "You know you want my body."  

"I do not!"

"I bet you do!"

"No!  I want Gil-ga-" she stopped abruptly and I knew that she was cursing to herself and blushing like an idiot.  For an instant, I wondered how many people were hanging out outside the tent listening to our rather unique argument.  Poor Glorfy must be pink from his ears to his…Okay!  Different thought now!

"Who do you want, Fiona?" I asked slyly.  I knew I was pushing boundaries.  Any moment she was going to fly through the partition and strangle me.  

"Nobody," she answered as innocently as she could, but I just _knew_ that she was lying.  

"Sure, sure."

"You're such a bitch," she said, half giggling, half whining. 

"Woof."

"Ladies?" Glorfy called from outside.  "Are you yet decent?"

"Just about!" I called back.

"Almost!" Fe answered.  "Rhiannon?  Are you really decent?" she asked me suspiciously.  

"You should know," I said, adjusting my borrowed tunic.  "You're the one who's spying on me."

I heard a growl from the other side of the partition.  "I am not spying on you changing!"

"Then why – "

"Anórmír, Minaimîr, you must hurry.  Time is wasting.  It is nearly time for the midday meal."

My stomach leaped at the thought of food and I realized that I hadn't eaten all day due to a hangover.  Those damned things are nasty.  Still, I rolled my eyes theatrically.  "Sweet Jebebus!  You are an impatient one, aren't you Glorfy?" I muttered.  If he heard me, he did not answer, which was probably a good thing, come to think of it.

The partition moved aside to reveal a fully dressed Fiona.  She came and stood beside me, back in the clothes that the Elves had provided for her.

"So," I began conversationally, as though our previous childish argument hadn't happened at all.  "What's your name mean?"

It had the desired effect.  She forgot all about our previous little argument and went straight to the Elf drooling. 

"Sun-jewel," she said dreamily.  "Because my hair is like the fires of Arien and yet the gold of the sun..."  She stared off into space for a good long minute before starting and turning back to me, only to find my eyebrows nearly up in my hairline.  "What does yours mean?" she asked guiltily, cheeks reddening.

"I haven't a clue," I replied.  "Glorfy never told me, despite my asking."

"It's probably the Elvish equivalent of 'perverted moron'," Fe said jokingly to cover her embarrassment.  

I grinned, though annoyed that I still didn't know.  "Probably," I said.  "Although, I guessed 'dumbass'.  We're ready!" I added for Glorfy's benefit.  He poked his head into the tent before coming the full way in, probably to make sure that we actually were and weren't trying to trick him in anyway.  I didn't blame him – not in the slightest.

He did me first.  

Get your mind _out _of the gutter!  That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it!  What I did mean, for those of you who insist that I'm lying, was that he put my armour on for me first, more or less to show Fe how to do it on someone else.  Whatever his reason, though, I was in heaven – or at least standing on cloud nine and rising fast.  

Think of it from my perspective.  Standing there, in Elvish clothing, with a _bloody hot Elf_ less than a foot away, lifting your hair out of the way, brushing your skin with his fingers, explaining how to put armour on in a voice that leaves you breathless…I know I said that Gil-galad and Gildor would likely be fighting it out for the Silkiest Voice title, but really…Glorfindel was miles a head of them both.  Now imagine he's adjusting the front, looking down at you with unbelievably clear, blue eyes, his golden hair held back from his face to reveal those deliciously pointed ears, falling down his shoulders like a silky curtain that you just want to tangle your fingers in…time seemed to stop all together, and I even forgot that Fe was in the tent watching…

At least, until she cleared her throat and I jumped about four feet in the air in surprise.  Then time resumed its normal course and I was left rather breathless and stunned as Glorfy moved over to Fe and began to show me how to put this odd armour on another.  

I did my best to pay attention – I really did.  But when he turned back to me and said, "take it off," that just got my mind going again, and…

"Minaimîr!"

"What?"  I've really got to stop jumping like that.

"Remove your armour.  You must practice on one another now."

It really isn't good for a girl, to have the object of her affection tell her to remove her clothes when she knows full well that it's got nothing to do with…other things.  It's not good at all.  In spite of this, I began to take the stuff off, trying to remember the last thing he put on me.  Can you guess what's coming next?

That's right!  I got tangled, much to my dismay and to Fe's amusement.  After hopping around the tent swearing my head off, trying to take of the breastplate, Glorfy took pity on me and helped.  So that was how I came to be dressed and then undressed by the hottest Elf in the camp, all in one day.

And then, a miracle!  Glorfy laughed!  Well, it was more like a chuckle, but…music to my ears.  "You are hopeless, Minaimîr," he said, still chuckling, the first real look of amusement I've seen in his eyes directed at me.  

"Not my fault," I said sullenly.  Hey…the guy may be laughing – finally – but he was still laughing at me.  Ah what the hell?  I made quite the hilarious sight, I had to admit.  I giggled too.  "You're right," I said after a moment.  "I am."

"No argument here," Fe spoke up.  I spun my tangled self, one arm jutting up into the air at what was a _really_ painful angle, to look at her.  She'd removed all of her armour, no problems.  I stuck my tongue out at her.  

Glorfindel continued to try and get me out of my armour (shut up!), muttering away to himself in Elvish.  Eventually, my brain stopped functioning, and I just closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his voice, letting myself feel his touches until I was half asleep…and then…

            "My Lord, Ladies," Gildor said as he pushed the flap aside.  The delicious scent of…food wafted its way before him and my stomach let loose with a rather un-lady-like growl.  I grinned at everyone, just as Fe's stomach repeated the noise, only louder.  

            "Sorry, my lords," she said.  Always a stickler for formalities, that one.  I, as one may guess, usually didn't bother.  "My sister and I have not eaten for quite some time."

            "By all means," Gildor said with a grin.  "Please eat.  You will need your strength in the trials ahead."

            I was somewhat apprehensive about what Gildor meant by 'trials' – and really did want to smack him with the tray for interrupting my Elf drooling – but I was too hungry at that point to care.  I started to walk towards Gildor, only to find my hair captured for an instant.  I turned to see what had caught me but found nothing except Glorfindel standing with his hand's behind his back, a slight smile upon his lips.  I shrugged and turned back.  There was food near by, and I was hungry.  All other thoughts could wait until later.

            And they did wait until later.  After we scarfed the food – I think it was beef, but I'm none too sure.  I just know it tasted _wonderful_ – Gildor had us put our armour back on (I paid better attention this time) and hand us a sword apiece.  They were gorgeous, curving blades, sharp as hell and covered with runes.  I wanted to cry.

            "These are not the best swords," Gildor began.  I shot him an incredulous look.  Not the best?  He was joking, right?  "But I believe that they will do for the use that you have for them.  Follow me."

            We followed.  As we approached the practice field, we became aware of the clang of sword on sword, or, at least, metal on metal.  We couldn't see any of what was going on at that point, because there was a ring of men and Elves surrounding whoever was fighting.  When we got closer, we pushed our way to the front of the crowd, largely because I couldn't see anything due to my lacking in the height department.  

            When we finally got through, we – the both of us – stopped dead in our tracks, chins dropping, eyes bulging.  Never before has such a beautiful sight of male bodies ever been presented to us.

            In the centre of the ring, fighting so fast that limbs and weapons were a blur of epic proportions, was Elrond and Gil-galad.  The beauty and mastery of the fight wasn't the only thing that had us spell bound.  Both of them fought, even in the nippy air, wearing nothing but a pair of well fitting leggings.  The sight was enough to drive us to speak in unison once again.

            "Hot _DAMN_!"   


	10. Ooooh that does it! This means WAR!

A/N: I've had the first half of this written for sometime, I took time to see if I could length it…my co-author of this story BoL always seems to churn out such long chapters for you, but I struggle to do so when she gives me free reign of where the story goes next…yep, we don't have a story plan! We're just kinda making it up as we go along.

Anyhow, here it is- Enjoy!

 "Hot damn!" I whispered, vaguely aware that Rhiannon had said much the same but louder.

  I watched with growing interest, my eyes wide and my heart beating fast, as Elrond and Gil-galad fought. Gil-galad wielded his magnificent spear, _Aeglos,_ with such accuracy that if Elrond had been a lesser opponent it would have been lethal. Elrond parried expertly with a beautiful Elven sword.

  But that wasn't what had got my attention. It was the fact that both of the Elves before us had removed their shirts and tunics to fight…they did not even wear shoes. It seemed that the only piece of clothing the combatants wore to satisfy propriety and dignity, were a pair of dark blue breeches.

  Gil-galad was perfect, in every sense in the word. I have argued many a time what is or isn't 'perfect'; Rhiannon and I agreed that perfection is defined differently by each person. Meaning that each person has a different list of qualities that can make something perfect. Well, Gil-galad filled my criteria for 'perfect'. Those deep blue eyes; rich, smooth voice, that could be so gentle and affectionate, and yet at other times firm and commanding; the well-muscled torso, glistening with sweat…what I wouldn't give to…

  I'm babbling again, aren't I? I'm sure you really wouldn't want to know any more details about...um…well, let's be honest and call it 'my obsession with Gil-galad'. But if it were you, You'd feel just the same way. My cheeks must have been _so_ red…

  Gil-galad glanced in our direction, and I met his gaze for a moment as he parried Elrond's slashing sword. His concentration was quickly back on the fight and suddenly he took the role of the aggressor, disarming Elrond and ending the contest. His breathing was hard as he and Elrond rested a moment, before giving Elrond a quick nod. A young dark-haired elf ran into the small arena and handed both Elf-lords a goblet of water.

  Gil-galad drained it quickly and then headed over to where Glorfindel, Rhiannon and I awaited him. His eyes were on me the whole time, though at the time I was blushing furiously and hoping that I wasn't going to sound half as dumb as I was anticipating…now, I look back on it with a smug smile. I had him enraptured!

  "You seem to be more comfortable within the garb of the Elves, Anórmír," Gil-galad said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  "Thank you, my Lord," I replied, feeling somewhat grateful that I was modestly clothed this time that I saw him. I kept my gaze down cast, looking up every now and again at his face to let him know that I was listening…and also to glance at his well-muscled broad chest. Well, hey! It _was_ at my eye height. *sigh* Gil-galad is gorgeous beyond compare…

  "Lord Gildor, as I'm sure you have both gathered, is your instructor, though I understand he wishes to see how much you already know of the sword," Gil-galad informed me…and Rhiannon, but Gil-galad's eyes only left my face briefly to look at my sister.

  "Captain Dúmassë, Sergeant Lichmé," Gildor summoned, as Gil-galad stepped aside; Rhiannon and I took some nervous steps into the practice ring. The ring didn't have any fences around it- but the gathering of people watching and waiting for their turn marked the space of the arena beyond question.

  The Captain and his equally arrogant fellow marched into the middle of the circle, neither hiding their sneering grins.

  "Even if we lose," I muttered quietly to Rhiannon. "I don't care- so long as we wipe those smirks off their ugly faces." Evil gits…what the hell were they doing on _our_ side?

  Rhiannon gave me a sideward glance to acknowledge that she had heard and barely perceptible nod. With more confidence than I could ever muster, she strode up to them.

  I followed her a few steps behind. Rhiannon had told me how to hold it before orcs attacked us- you know, just before we got 'captured' again- but she'd pretty much left me to figure out how to block and slash. I hoped I did not make a complete fool of myself. Without swords, I'd be fine. I'm quite good at kicking and punching. Back home, most guys found me offensive- hell, a lot of the men _here_ find me offensive- but I don't think it's necessarily because of my attitude. It more has to do with the fact that I'm tall and broad shouldered…I was made for this sort of stuff, really. I could've done without the broad hips though. I find it almost insulting to think that I was primarily made for childbirth. Why me?

  Okay, okay…back to the story.

  Dumbass attacked me without warning but for gritting his teeth. "Take that you promiscuous wench," he hissed at me.

  I easily parried. Either anger was making his moves slow and awkward, or he was just a really crappy fighter. "If you think that I am the only one who heard that comment, you are badly mistaken," I replied mockingly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sergeant Lick-me and Rhiannon have a much swifter paced battle. "An Elf's hearing is far better than a mere mortal, such as yourself, would realise."

  He broke off and then lunged, hollering. I stepped aside and whacked his back with the flat of my sword. I couldn't help grinning. This was more fun that I'd thought!

  Captain Dumbass obviously felt rather insulted by that, and his next flurry of offensive moves were more swift and calculated. I struggled a little, but managed to defend myself well enough.

  After several attacks like this, I realised that Rhiannon was standing triumphantly to one side, and Sergeant Lick-me was scowling.

  How embarrassing. Not only was I no good at this, and people were watching…but now their focus was drawn completely to my ability to take out Dumbass. Or rather, my ability not to. It was not going well. I couldn't attack him in any way that he couldn't counter, and I knew how bad I looked making such attempts. I had strength, but no skill. Not good…

  Eventually he tried an overhead chop and I got sick of the whole business. I dropped my sword and grasped his arms to stop the sword crashing down on my head. I kneed him in his already-tender tender parts and stepped out of the way as he doubled over in horrific pain. I kicked his hand, still loosely grasping his sword. He dropped the sword and pulled his hand closer. Pissed off for a reason I couldn't quite determine- was it because I was humiliated in front of so many people? Either way, I knew Dumbass was the cause of my irritation; I punched his head. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whose side you're on, my knuckle hit his temple and Captain Dumbass went down like a light.

  As I said before, I have a great deal of strength and little to no skill at all, but add anger to the equation and that's a lethal combination. You might have realised by now, that whatever you might think of me, I am _not_ someone to be trifled with.

  I didn't bother to check if he was alive or not, just picked up my sword and I headed over to where Rhiannon was. I raised an eyebrow, indicating that I knew she wanted to say something and that she had better say it out loud.

  She smirked. "I never liked him anyway."

  Gildor came over to me, looking somewhat put off. "Was that really necessary, Anórmír?"

  I pretended to think it over. "Yes, I believe it was. You wanted to know how good we were with a sword. The first time I picked a sword up was two days ago, so as you saw, I have very little with it. I did wish to make sure you knew however, that I was no totally defenceless and can hold my own, if necessary." I replied coolly. I was not in a good mood.

  Gildor seemed to take this in and calm down somewhat. "We will work on that-"

  A blast of a horn sounded, and many others joined in its call.

  "The orcs are coming! Prepare for attack! Get to your positions!" Elrond ordered in a loud voice from beside Gil-galad.

  "And what are our positions?" I asked, but only Rhiannon heard.

  She shrugged. "Who knows? But I've noticed that in war, everybody ends up jumbled and confused anyway, so if we were to join in..." She grinned widely.

  I grinned back. "Normally I wouldn't like this- but I'm feeling rather peevish at the moment- and I could do with the practice."

  Rhiannon stared at me strangely. "What the hell did they put in your armour? Or is it the undies giving you a wedge…Or that insult about 'wench' or something. I know it made me furious and it hadn't even been directed at me…"

  You may have noticed that Rhiannon has the unique about of letting her mouth wander- I mean, in the talking sense- when she's unsure about something. In this case, me.

  "Or PMS? Hold on- _can Elves get PMS? And is it monthly?"_

  I raised my eyebrows at her, hoping she'd get the message; she was babbling and wasting our precious time, if we wanted to get to the battle already.

  She caught my look, but misinterpreted. "No, seriously!" she added. "This is something we've got to find out about later. Think of it. Imoortal creatures that, from the look of things, don't breed all that often because of length of existence…"

  I sighed impatiently.

  Rhiannon continued on. "I mean, what use would they have for menstruating once a month? To us, that'd be like bleeding every day of the year! It would be madness, and every Elf-maiden out there would be in a state of permanent annoyance because of it."

  But isn't that what PMS stands for? _Permanent menstrual syndrome? I had to admit, Rhiannon did have a point; but now really wasn't the time to contemplate the workings of sexual reproduction for Elves. Presumably, there was no end to when an Elf-maiden could have children – unlike human women, who go through menopause anytime between 45-65 years of age – so it would seem a bit mean for it to come so often…and then there was the issue of sex. From what I gathered, Elves lose the inclination for it after sometime…what, so they just get __bored with it??_

  "Eru _has_ to have come up with a better set up than that for the female Elves. Either way…it lays out some pretty nice prospects for us. Maybe they follow the Moon, but the entire lunar cycle, which is 19 years long. That said, what would the-"

  "Rhiannon!" I snapped, finally getting tired of her mindless dribbling of crap.

  "What?" she blinked as though she hadn't realised my growing irritation.

  "Battle? Orcs? Great amounts of bloody death and carnage coming our way?" I reminded her.

  "Oh. Right."

  "We can discuss the how, where and what-not's of Elven puberty, reproduction and sex later."

  "Ok."

  We were about to head off in the direction that everybody else seemed to have rushed off to- the clash of steel on steel and much noise made it clear where the battle was being had- when we were stopped.

  "Where do you think you go at this time?" an all-too familiar voice asked. Rhiannon looked ready to melt.

  I look at him as though he were stupid. "Would you care to take a guess?" I skipped the formality, partly because I'm not comfortable using it, partly because Glorfindel was interfering with our plans.

  "You are not yet ready to join the battalions," he stated flatly, clearly as unimpressed with our antics and we- well, me at least- of him. Rhiannon looked ready to throw him on the ground and ravage him then and there. I had to admit, Glorfindel wasn't too bad looking in his armour. But somehow I think Rhiannon might've had problems getting it off. She never seems to pay attention when Glorfy is our instructor for something.

  "You need everybody you can get!" Rhiannon retorted hotly, forgetting her fixation on Glorfy for a moment. I don't know why we were in such a temper, but we were and it showed.

  "We need you both alive!" Glorfindel countered sternly. "Get yourselves away from the battle- to the tent you were in before when I showed you how to put your armour on."

  Rhiannon opened her mouth to say something, but I had an idea. "Don't, Rhiannon. Lord Glorfindel is right. I know where the tent is. Let's go." I pulled Rhiannon away in the general direction of the tent from which we had come earlier.

  Unfortunately, Glorfindel must have heard more of our conversation that we'd realised or he'd gotten to know just how good at evading orders we were; he escorted us all the way to the tent. I'd hoped that he would be fooled and that the raging battle would have been his first priority, leaving us and going to make his way to wherever he was supposed to be right now, but apparently two Elf-maidens were more important than a war that needed everybody to be in the right place at the right time. That irritated me just a little, but if I was going to maintain my innocence- One does owe a certain amount of loyalty to One's acts and lies- then I would have to go by what Glorfindel insisted.

  When we reached the tent, Glorfindel pulled back the flap and turned to us with an expression that spoke all too clearly that any arguments would not be accepted.

  Rhiannon baulked and I found myself in the position of having to step round her to perform my act of obedience. I glanced over at my shoulder to see Glorfindel look her sternly in the eye and say to Rhiannon, "Get into the tent, Minaimîr."

  Rhiannon lowered her gaze and meekly stepped into the tent behind me. I couldn't believe she'd actually taken orders from someone…I don't order, Rhiannon about. I make strong suggestions and she comes to her own conclusion whether she's willing to go along with it or not. And in this instance, I knew that Rhiannon had refrained from argument and stepped down for the first- and probably only- time in her life.

  Glorfindel dropped the tent flap, leaving us together in the tent.

  I crossed my arms. "And what do we do if the enemy gets into our tent?" I scowled, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. "Stay here, _my Lord_? Or should we remove ourselves to another tent?" At least he hadn't taken our weapons from us.

  I turned to glare at Rhiannon.

  "What?" was her innocent reply.

  It wasn't too much longer before Rhiannon and I peeked our heads out the tent flap and looked in opposite directions. Then we looked back at each other and nodded. We crept out of the tent, despite the fact that the place seemed completely deserted.

  "Where to now?" Rhiannon asked as I led us further away- in the opposite direction I'd guessed Glorfindel had gone in- and that meant away from the arena.

  "To the edge of the Elves' lines," I explained. "Furthest away from us is the armies commanded by Anárion younger son of Elendil. Then is Isildur's command, and then Elendil's himself. We were stationed in Gil-galad's camp, which is directly next to Elendil's. But because the Elvish army is so wide spread, Gil-galad has entrusted part to Círdan, who also commands with the Elves of his own city among those of Lindon. Beyond Círdan there is a gap, for the Elves of the Woodland Realms do not wish to join the Alliance as such, but they do heed the call to arms against the Dark Lord."

  Rhiannon followed me, almost seeming to pay attention for once. I supposed there might come a time when she needed to know this and thus it was important to her that she learn it. And Glorfindel wasn't around to distract her, so she could give her conscious attention to the matters at hand.

  "We're headed for the Elves under Lord Círdan's command. We won't be recognised among them, and after it's all done, we can slip back quickly to the tent, hopefully before Glorfindel or any others are aware of it."

  "Nice plan," Rhiannon gave me rare praise. "How did you find all that stuff out?"

  "While you were drunk and Glorfy was taking care of you, Gil-galad led me around the camp of the Last Alliance. So I have a vague idea of where things are and where we need to be. We're almost there."

  We strode past the line of tents and looked over the battle before us. We stood dumbfounded, gaping in awe, and for a moment, I questioned what we were doing.


	11. When Battle's Cry Boobinator

Oh my…  

Have you ever seen a battle?  Up close and in person, I mean.  Movies don't count.  If you have, then you know what I'm talking about, but if not…well then, until you get to one, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that you have any idea what I'm talking about.  

It's quite…I don't want to say 'terrible' because everyone says that battles are 'terrible' or 'horrible'.  They're right, but…just think of it this way.  Screams of dying Elves, Men and Orcs echoing, mingling with the sounds of steel on steel, and steel on flesh.  Thunder from the hooves of the cavalry, first meeting stony ground and turf, then the quickly growing piles of bodies of the dead and dying.  The ground growing dark under the approaching hordes of misshapen, gibbering creatures whose ancestors were the same ancestors as the beautiful people killing them.  The stench of rotting flesh that always carries before a horde of Orcs, choking you, making your eyes water.  And blood…so much blood, noticeable from even this distance, covering the ground and making everything slick until the ground became mud beneath the feet and hooves of the armies, where horses would get stuck, and then slaughtered by the Orcs.  

Worse than all this, perhaps, is the death scream of a horse.  Animals have no place in the wars of humans (or Elves, for that matter) and should be left out of it.  Those screams, mixing and twining with others from slightly more sentient sources, chilled my heart.  Especially since I knew the sort of horses the Elves had.  

I looked up at Fiona, and noted that she was quite obviously having several second thoughts about our plan of action, and probably wanted very much to return to our nice, relatively safe, tent.  I didn't blame her in the slightest.  In fact, if I'd known the direction of the tent from where we were at the moment, I would have been running there at full speed.  But I didn't, so I only whimpered and stared at the death and carnage in front of us.

And then suddenly I was angry.  Very angry.  Pissed off, in fact, so much so that I couldn't think straight and frustration began to be vented.

"Blow that!" I exclaimed.  Fiona turned towards me, as did some of the soldiers who were passing by on their way to the front lines. 

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"I am not going to stand here and watch Elves die.  Or humans, for that matter.  I am going to march right down there, find the head bastard of those bloody bunyips and kick the living shit out of him!"

I realized that my voice was getting quite loud, but I didn't care.  I was _pissed_.  Not even thinking I'd been ripped off my existence could hold a candle to why I was angry now.  I trembled in my armour, but not because I was scared.  Not any more.  I was too farking pissed to be scared.

Something clicked in Fe's eyes, and I watched some of my anger transfer over to her, and grow.  "You're right," she said, teeth clenched.  "No more!  We are going to kick Sauron's ass once and for all, or I'll…I'll…" she ended with a wordless scream of rage, fists clamped at her side and trembling, as I was, all over.  

"Right," I said determinedly.  "Lets kick some Orc ass!"

Perhaps you wonder how it was we managed to make it to the battlefield.  Well, if you've been talking to Fiona, you know, but…well, when we were talking about it, some time later, I realized that her view was somewhat skewed.  For instance, she's convinced that Gilly's more gorgeous than Glorfy!  Hah…Gilly is damn hot – blue eyes and dark hair make for drool worthy Elves – but still…Glorfy…Glorfy is Glorfy, and there is no comparison.

I suppose that there are many definitions of what counts towards a 'beautiful' or 'hot' person.  Personality, physical appearance, whether or not they behave like a child…  Of course, all this is moot when one is watching two highly skilled Elves practice fight.  Then 'beautiful' swiftly comes to mean two nearly naked, well-muscled, slightly sweaty Elves, spinning and striking one another so fast that their limbs blur with speed.  A deadly dance, but both Elrond and Gil-galad knew it perfectly.  I was rather envious.

Of course, my envy had to do with another reason, as there usually is.  Why is it that Fiona got to see the object of her affection half naked, while Glorfy stood behind us, watching the fight and entirely clothed?  Does this seem fair to you?  Yes, Elrond is a hot chunk of Elf, but, really, I just wanted to see Glorfy without his clothes on.  

As if you didn't already know that.

Their whirling dance of death continued until Gil-galad glanced up, and then rapidly turned Peacock-show-off and went offensive.  Hah…you may _think_ that Elf kings are immune to showing off, but really, all males are show-offs when it comes to impressing the opposite gender.  And the ones who insist that they aren't are generally trying to show off the fact that they don't show off.  Don't ask me why this is – it's a fact of life that hasn't changed since sexual reproduction became the norm.

You'd think a self-proclaimed Tolkien nut would know what the name of Gilly's spear was, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember.  Whatever it was, Gilly had used it quite expertly to disarm Elrond, and the ring surrounding the pair had to step back when the sword flung through the air and landed some distance away.  I watched it arc with some interest before my eyes returned to the hot and sweaty and _half naked_ Elves.

After a moment of rest – and after some other Elf brought them some water – the pair strode towards us, exuding the sort of male confidence that sends women's heads around the bend and puts their knickers in a twist.  Or causes them to take said knickers off.  Either way, I was in heaven.

What scared me about that, really, was what Gilly was going to think when he finally got Fe's knickers off, and realized what they looked like.  That thought nearly made me snigger, but I suppressed it.  Mostly because I remembered what _I_ had found at the bottom of my bag…

I glanced up at Fiona…she was looking as though she was going to fall to the ground at any moment in a dead faint, or, at least, flood the place with drool.  I didn't blame her in the slightest, although I did wish that it'd been Glorfy rather than Elrond.  Really, though – I'm not complaining.  I'll take getting a good look at half naked Elves any day, no matter which ones they are.  To this end, I grinned at Elrond.  He looked suddenly uncomfortable and called for his shirt.  Damn.

Fiona had more luck.  Gilly was still only clad in those wonderfully tight britches of his.  Peacock feathers – spread!  "You seem to be more comfortable in the garb of Elves, Anórmír," the king said in that silky voice of his.  I grinned as I watched Fiona squirm.  This was entertaining, if nothing else.  She kept glancing up from the ground to stare at his chest.  It was a very nice chest.

"Thank you, my lord," Fe replied.  

"Lord Gildor," Gilly continued, "as I am sure you have both gathered, is to be your instructor in the art of swordplay.  I understand he wishes to see what skill you have, if any, with a blade."

"Oh bloody hell!" I muttered.  What, was he going to make us fight one another?  It would be about evenly matched, skill wise, although – as you know – Fiona is a great deal taller than me.  Then again…I can duck.  I noticed Gilly's eyes flicker to me and wondered for a moment how much effort it had taken to move those grey beauties off Fiona.  I shrugged slightly, and looked down at the sword in my hand.  It was light, almost like the knives that we'd fought off the Orcs with a couple of nights ago, but I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with it, how to hold it, or how to avoid getting sliced open by Fiona's.  But I swallowed my apprehension.  First of all, it was pointless; second, this could be a great deal of fun.

"Captain Dúmassë, Sergeant Lichmé," Gildor ordered.  The two men stepped forward as I tried – nearly unsuccessfully – not to snigger again.  Lichmé?  What the hell was it with these Númenórean bastards naming their kids things like Dumbass and Lick-me?  Or was this just my dirty mind coming up with stupid things again?  Probably.  

Either way, the apprehension was back.  Both men were about six foot five, both of them heavily muscled, covered in armour, and both had a look of smarmy arrogance on their features that made me want to smack them with a brick.  Maybe the broad side of the blade in my hand would work better.  Perhaps.  Whatever.  I was rather…okay, fine, I was farking frightened, and hoping to all things sacred that I would be allowed to use what little Karate I do remember to help out where I lacked in sword skill.

I studied our new opponents, wondering why we couldn't have been pitted against Elves who didn't already hate us for one reason or another.  Well, I knew that Dúmassë didn't like us much, for reasons you already know, but I didn't know who Lick-me was, or what he might have against us.  I vaguely recognized him as being someone who was always in the background whenever Dumbass was near, but I'd never really paid much attention to him, nor cared who he was, until I noticed that he'd singled me out.  I knew this because he was staring at me in a way that made me both uncomfortable and unreasonably angry.  He was _leering_.  I don't like leers, especially when sent in my direction.  I actually avoid using them whenever possible.  They smack of seedy minds.  My mind's just dirty. 

Gilly stood aside and left Fiona and I to our collective doom.  I was not amused.  What the hell is this king guy on?  

"Even if we loose," Fiona muttered, "I won't care so long as we wipe those smarmy grins of their ugly faces."

"Deal," I muttered back as I looked up at her briefly before looking back across the ring of spectators to the two bastards whose asses we were going to kick – or die trying.  Nodding to myself, I promised silently that if Fiona got hurt, there was going to be a great deal of hell to pay.  

Eyes narrowed, I strode quickly up to Lick-me, readied the sword in my hand in what I hoped was the right way, and then grinned at him.  

Always grin at your opponent.  It scares the living shit out of them, seeing someone so much smaller than them with a maniacal grin plastered across their face, one that just screams 'you'd better get me committed before I hurt someone'.  Scares them even more when you've got a sword.  I saw a sliver of apprehension sneak into Lick-me's eyes.  Perfect.  

Without so much as a greeting the bastard lunged.  Thank Jebebus for those lightning quick Elvish reflexes that came along with the ears!  The arse nearly skewered me that time.  I couldn't let that happen again.

I heard Dúmassë call Fe something, but the only word I caught over the ringing steel was 'wench'.  This only served to increase my anger.  How dare that…!  

"Bugger that!" I yelled aloud.  The tip of Lichmé's sword scraped across the back of my right hand.  Blood welled out of the cut and the air stung it.  I knew that I'd come dangerously close to loosing the tendons and all working use of my hand for the rest of my life.  "You damn bloody farking bastard!  I'm going to - " the words that followed aren't my best.  I'll not bore you with them, but they were quite…spirited, as Glorfy once put it later.  In other words, I swore my ass off.  With each curse I attacked the smarmy jerk-off, hoping to repay him for the bloodletting.  

By pure luck I deflected Lick-me's next blow, and added a kick to his exposed midsection in much the same way as I had to that Orc a couple of nights ago.  Kicking armour _hurts_, but I didn't have time to worry about that.  This guy was fast, and I was severely annoyed.  

Fe's mocking laughter drifted over and I took heart.  She wasn't hurt yet.  I was really gunning for some blood, either from Lick-me or his dumbass of a counterpart, so I couldn't look around, but I was glad she was still intact and likely kicking the Captain's tender arse.  Strangely enough, I think the grin on my face widened.  The reason for this thought is that Lick-me's face suddenly registered a great deal more fear.  It had to be the grin.  There was no way that anything else I was doing – besides fighting back – would have been scary enough.  

What was the point of this?  I mean honestly.  Pitting two very untrained females, who had only just found out that they were Elves, against two very large, very trained, and very arrogant human males?  Did this make sense to anyone else?  Apparently so, because Gilly wasn't trying to stop the 'practice run'.  Everyone looked quite amused, actually.  Amused!  They probably thought we were going to be pushovers.  Hah!  I'd show them!

I don't know how I did it.  To tell you the truth, what I remember after my vow to show them that _I _at least wasn't going to be a push over consists of a few blurry images and then Glorfy telling me that I could stop now.  At that point I looked down and found a rather frightened Lick-me beneath me, his face inches from mine.  My teeth were barred, maniacal grin still – somehow – in place.  I realized that I had his hair in my hand, and my other fist was raised to deliver a huge blow to the face that would have knocked him out.

"Minaimîr," Glorfy called again.  "Come back, Minaimîr.  It's over now."

I looked up at Glorfy with surprise, dropped Lick-me's head back down to the ground and lowered my raised fist, wondering just how the hell I'd managed to get like this.  I stood and stumbled over to where I'd dropped my sword, picking the magnificent weapon up from the ground and brushing dirt off the blade.  

I looked over at Fiona just in time to watch her land a blow to Dumbass' head that caused him to crumple.  I stared in shock – and vowed that I was _never ever_ going to piss her off – before raising my eyebrow when she looked over at me.  

I looked down at the fallen Captain Dúmassë as Fe walked stiffly over to me, and then shrugged.  "I never liked him anyway," I said to my twin before giving her a high-five.  "Good job!"

Gildor came over, looking rather distressed.  "Was that really necessary?"  I guess he meant the blow to the temple by Fiona.  It had been a nice blow, but I was somewhat worried that the Captain hadn't gotten up again.  Blows to the temple could be quite dangerous.  I glanced over and noticed that some of his men were lifting him up and carrying him off somewhere, Lick-me limping behind.

"Well, yes, I believe it was," Fiona said.  My eyes widened slightly at the amount of sarcasm that dripped from her words.  I reinforced my promise to never get on her bad side.  "You wanted to know how good we were with a sword. The first time I picked a sword up was two days ago, so as you saw, I have very little skill with it. I did wish to make sure you knew however, that I was not totally defenceless and can hold my own, if necessary."

Gildor looked thoughtful.  "We will work on that," he began, but got no further.  Trumpets, their sound golden, blasted about the camp.  It was a call to arms, which Elrond punctuated with his own shouts of "Orcs are coming!  Take your positions!"

Everyone erupted into chaos, and Fe and I were left standing there, looking rather bemused, and more than a little unsure of what the hell we were supposed to do next.  

"And what are our positions?" Fiona asked.

"Do we even have positions?" I wondered and shrugged, trying very hard to ignore the double meaning of 'positions' as it pertained to Elves.  "Who knows?  Either way, I've noticed that in war things get jumbled and confused anyway, so we might as well join in."  Just then I spotted Glorfy running across the camp and grinned widely, thinking he made quite the sight.  I was quite surprised to find Fe grinning back.

"I normally wouldn't like this, but…I'm feeling rather peevish at the moment.  And we could use the practice."

Eyebrow raised, I agreed.  "What's gotten into you?" 

She shrugged.  "Couldn't say."

"Was it that insult about being a 'wench'?  I know that it'd made me angry, and it hadn't even been directed at me.  Or PMS?  But then, do Elves even get PMS?  And is it monthly?  

"No, seriously!" I added, as Fiona stared at me, shock evident on her features. "Think of it.  Immortal creatures that, from the look of things, don't breed all that often because of length of existence…what use would they have for menstruating once a month?  To us, that'd be like being on the cycle for every day of the year!  It would be madness, and every elf-maiden out there would be in a state of permanent annoyance because of it.  Eru _has_ to have come up with a better set up than that for the female Elves.  Either way…it lays out some pretty nice prospects for us.  Maybe they follow the Moon, but the entire lunar tide cycle, which is 19 years long.  That said, what would the –" 

"Rhiannon!" Fiona snapped me out of my tirade.  

"What?"

"Battle?  Orcs?  Great amounts of bloody death and carnage coming our way?"

"Oh.  Right."

We headed off towards the other side of the camp, where a battle had already begun, looking for something to do that would be useful.

We ended up in a tent.  This was mostly because Glorfy, that drool worthy Elf that he is – especially in armour…hot damn! – found us again and told us to keep out of the battle, because we weren't prepared to 'join the battalion' or whatever it was that he said.  I'm not sure because I wasn't listening, but instead was trying to memorize exactly where the buckles of his armour were for future purposes.  And wishing I had a camera.  Glorfy in full battle armour makes a damn wonderful sight. 

Still, despite my Elf drooling, I put up a fuss.  "But you need everyone you can get!"  The Alliance might need all the people they could get, but _he_ only needed one person to take his clothes off…hee hee!  Sorry…just, if you'd seen him…

Glorfy frowned suddenly, looking down at my side.  "Minaimîr, you are bleeding," he said concernedly, grabbing my right hand and holding it up.  I noticed he bypassed my fuss entirely.  Not that I cared too much, mind.    

"It's not so bad," I managed, although I think my knees were about to give out.  He was touching me!  _He was touching me!_  Glorfy wrapped a cloth around the cut on the back of my hand and then continued with the argument, although I would have very much rather to stay in that moment.  "I – we need you alive."  Was that just me, or did he start to say 'I need you alive' rather than 'we'?  Dare I hope?  Well, he hadn't let go of my hand yet…it was still firmly entrenched between those lovely hands of his.  Should I take this to mean something, or is this wishful thinking?  Thoughts for later…  "Now remove yourself to the tent in which you applied your armour." 

I opened my mouth to protest, but Fe stopped me.

"Don't, Rhiannon.  He's right."  She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me off to the tent.  I was reluctantly forced to retrieve my hand, although I'd been quite happy right where I was.  I was happy to note, however, that Glorfy had followed us to make sure that was where we were actually going.  

 When we reached the tent, I stopped intent on making as much of a fuss as I could (and secretly hoping that Glorfy would drag me in, although, don't tell Fiona that.  Hee hee!).  Fe stepped around me and went in, playing the part of Miss Obedience.  This fuss was not because I really wanted to hang my life by a thread over a horde of charging Orcs, but really…actually, come to think of it, I didn't have a good reason (unless you count Glorfy being outside and in the mood for some hand holding).  My lack of a good reason was partially why we were now in the tent, and not being hacked to bits by Orcs.

And by 'fuss' I mean 'didn't protest in the slightest as he looked me in the eye and told me to get in the tent.'  Just in case you were worried.  I can't help it…those eyes…so blue…

"You can't do it, can you?" Fiona asked, exasperated, when the flap closed behind me.

"What?"  I didn't know what she was talking about and was still somewhat shook up by staring into Glorfy's eyes just now…so wonderfully blue…

"Think straight when around Glorfindel," she elaborated.  

"You can't think straight around Gilly," I retorted, not seeing how this had anything to do with our current predicament.  If Gilly had told her to get in the damn tent, she would have run and dived.  

"You could have just said that we had to fight because the Valar sent us," Fiona said.  Was she disappointed?  Because she didn't get to kill?  Dúmassë must have said something _really_ stupid.

"You could have said that too," I pointed out.  "Besides – we don't know that," I added.  "We just got hit by a farking truck and then ended up here.  _After_, of course, doing the 'light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel' bit."

"It's as good an explanation as any," Fiona replied.  I had to admit that she was right.  "And the best one we're likely going to get."

"Yeah, but…do _you_ really want to get stuck in a battle?"

"No, not really," she admitted.

"Well then, we can just stay here in this lovely safe tent until someone comes and gets us," I said.

"While Glorfindel and Ereinion are out there with their lives on the edge?"

Well that got my attention!  The idea of Glorfy in trouble caused me to start pacing.  "We have to go help him!" I exclaimed, heading for the tent flap.  "Well, them.  Whatever.  We still have to help them!  They could be dead!  Or dying!  Or both!  Or – "    

"Wait," Fiona said, stopping my second tirade of the day.  "We have to make sure that _he_'s still not outside."

I sidled up to the flap and peeked out.  "No sign of him!" I whispered, but no doubt loudly enough to broadcast to every Elf in hearing distance what it was we were about to do.  "But that just means we have to hurry!  He could be in danger even now and – "  

"Okay," Fiona said exasperatedly, for the third time that day cutting off a tirade of mine.  "I know my way around, so I'll go first."  I moved back out of the way.

On the way through the camp, Fiona told me all sorts of stuff about who was controlling what and so forth, and where everyone was.  I actually managed to listen this time…Anárion and his bunch furthest away, then Isildur's.  I guess that's where we were when we took the horses and made a break for it the other day.  The lot on the other side of us was Elendil's army, and over there's Círdan's bit, and that bunch away and to the side a bit must have been Oropher's…I felt a great swell of pity for them, considering their proximity to the Dead Marshes.  Two thirds of them would die because they were too proud…

            "Nice plan," I said when Fiona told me why we were headed in the direction that we were going.  "How did you find all this stuff out?"

            "Simple," Fiona replied smugly.  "While you were off drunk and being looked after by Glorfy, Ereinion gave me a tour of the camp.  So I have a good idea where everything is."

            I didn't bother to point out that Fe had seemed to start using Gil-galad's real name.  First of all, my face was beet red with embarrassment because of what I'd done the day before (I'm still interested to learn how it was I ended up in Glorfy's clothes though), but second of all because we passed the last of the tents and beheld the might of the Last Alliance going against the foes from the Dark Land as they poured out the Morannon.  

            Oh my…     

            So that's why we were now running full tilt towards the gathered might of Mordor as they stood before Sauron's Gates.  Anger boiled in our blood at the deaths of the Elves and Men and horses.  Fear only gave us strength as we ran, side by side, swords raised. 

            "Minaimîr!" I realized it was Glorfy, but had too much momentum and too much anger to really stop.  "Minaimîr!  Wait!"  He was quite far away.  

            As one, my twin and I let loose a cry which became – from then on – the battle cry of warrior Elf-maidens.  Or so we'd like to think, anyway.  In truth, the word that came from our collective minds and throats was one that had never been uttered in Middle-earth before, and if we died in this (if we could, that is), never would again, except in puzzlement.

            "BOOBINATOR!"

            It was said later – by someone…don't know whom – that we two were the fiercest fighters on the battlefield.  What we lacked in skill (and that was a lot) we made up for with sheer audacity.  And the grins.  One must never forget the maniacal grin when facing any sort of opponent.  Of course, we might have scared some people by yelling 'boobinator' (only because the word's so stupid) and then going totally beserkernuts on every Orc we came to, so you never know.

            "You are gong to stop this right now!" I bellowed, cleaving away at the disgusting creatures around me.  "I said _right now!_  Did you hear me, mister?" He – rather, it – couldn't have.  It no longer had a head.  "This battle is _over_!  Everyone go home!"

            Somehow, even though we were killing the bunyips left, right and centre, they still kept coming at us.  And somehow, they surrounded us.  So we kept killing them.  You'd have thought they would have gotten the hint, but…well, no one said Orcs were particularly intelligent.  _Kamikaze_ is the word, I believe. 

            "She said 'go home', you stupid bunyips!" Fe yelled.  "Or so help us, we're going to take the lot of you down!"

            "Yeah!" I continued, taking out another as Fe got hers.  These idiots were attacking one at a time!  What a lot of dumbarses!  If they'd had any sort of sense whatsoever, they would have all mobbed us at once, thereby cutting their losses and gaining two she-Elves, either dead or just badly injured.  "Get your sorry asses out of here, you – ow!  That bloody _hurt_!  You are _so_ going to pay for that!"  One had gotten me on the back of my other hand, so that I now had two scrapes, although the first had stopped bleeding.  The cloth that Glorfy had wrapped around my hand was still there, although it was now dark with both my blood and the blood of the Orcs, which is black.  I took out the Orc that had gotten the back of my hand before moving on to the next.  After a while, I didn't have the heart to yell – all my will was going towards killing Orcs and staying upright.  Who would have guessed that fighting can be such tiring work?

            Fe and I worked back to back, so there was no chance of any Orcs getting us that way, but we were completely surrounded by them, and I couldn't see a way out.  I don't know how many hours we were in that pit of Orcs, but it certainly seemed like forever.  My muscles were burning, and the Orcs just kept coming and coming and coming…

            "Fiona," I yelled over the noise after a while.

            "Yeah?" she yelled back.

            "Want to get out of here?"

            "Sure!  But how?"

            "I have no idea!  But let's just keep pushing back towards the camp.  Maybe we'll get there, one of these days."

            We tried this for a small eternity, but didn't seem to be getting anywhere.  I wondered again if it was possible for me to die, since I had once already.  I was certainly possible for me to get hurt – I had two cuts and a damn bloody lot of bruises to prove that – but nothing had yet killed me, or Fiona, since we'd gotten here, and we'd put ourselves in some pretty dangerous situations.  

            I vaguely wondered if and where I was going to reincarnate next, or if this was the end of the road, that I only got two chances and then that was it.  Darkness and gloominess set in around me – not too sure about Fiona…we never really talked about the battle – and I could feel my will slipping.  There were just _so many_ Orcs!  How the hell could we possibly kill them all?  Even if we managed to kill most of them – just the two of us – it would take nothing short of a divine miracle to get us the hell out of here.

            You already know this, but Glorfindel the Golden Haired _is_ a divine miracle.  Especially when he comes in riding his gorgeous white horse to save your sorry ass from death by cleaving.  

            Minras glowed in the gloom, bearing his glowing master.  I barely noticed the tears of relief that sprang into my eyes, washing away the blood and gore as they fell.  I was about to point him out to Fiona when something slammed hard into the back of my neck and my limbs turned to jelly.  In shock, I fell to my knees, barely hearing someone – Fiona, I think – calling out to me, someone else yelling "Minaimîr!  Minaimîr!"  That had to be Glorfy.  I looked up at the shining white figure, so close and yet so far away.  As the blood soaked ground grew closer, it brought darkness with it.

            I awoke again in this darkness, and then started talking to you, Mr. Shadow-man.  So now you know everything before this much, anyway.  I still don't know where Fiona is now.  The last I remember is the wonderful sight of Glorfindel shining whitely atop his beautiful horse.  

            Damn it!  I wish that I had had the chance to act more like a normal person around him, instead of immediately groping his arse and then acting like a lovesick teenager!  And now, unless he happens to appear out of the darkness, it's unlikely I'll ever get to tell him how much I…

            Bah.  Even if I'm dead, I don't really have that many regrets.  I had fun, and a great deal of it.  I'll never forget the look on Glorfy's face the day I groped his arse though…hee hee!  It was priceless!  So no, I have no regrets.  Except…well…I never did tell Glorfy how much I loved him.

            Yeah, I know.  I only knew him for a couple of days, but…damn it…I used to scorn Mary Sues with a passion, but now…now that I'm in one, so help me…  I've fallen for an Elf, and fallen hard.  I only wish he knew…

            It's been a few days, but I might as well fill you in.  I've started a journal (Elrond gave me a book with some paper in so that I might be able to transcribe the point of view of my happenings for the histories.  We've had several arguments on what I should put in and what I should omit, but it's really all come down to Glorfy looking at me with those eyes of his and my resolve crumbling like an ancient wall).  Shortly after my lament for never talking to Glorfy properly, someone lit a candle.  I did what anyone sane would do.  I screamed.

            No, I hadn't been in the dungeons of Barad-dûr.  Fiona and I rushed the Morannon, the Dark Gates, not Barad-dûr, so that's one reason.  Sorry to have miss informed anyone, but I got the two places confused.  Battle's all look the same, and so do dark, ominous buildings that loom over everyone and everything and let Orcs out at you.  You'd think little details would have given it away though, like the being on the plain of Dagorlad, rather than Gorgoroth.  Or the proximity to the Dead Marshes, which I noted earlier.  Just put it down to 'Rhiannon's off in Funland' or something.  I'm surprised I made it this far in life.  Well, death now.  Or whatever.

Still, though…the entire time I'd been pouring my heart out to the shadow man/imagination figment, I'd been in Glorfy's tent talking to _him_!  Of all the…!  On top of that, the darkness was quite natural, and was caused by the fact that the sun was down.  I feel like such a dumbass!  Why the hell didn't I just…bah.  Never mind.  

            My throat was dry as all hell by the time I'd finished blathering.  I don't know how long I'd been speaking for, but…sweet Jebebus, I'd been talking to Glorfy the whole time!  And he didn't seem to find it fit to tell me that I wasn't in a dungeon!  That bloody bastard!  I did – when I calmed down somewhat – get some sort of satisfaction out of the look on Glorfy's face when I let loose the highest and longest scream I've ever screamed, despite the hoarseness of my voice.  He looked like the sound alone would explode his eardrums.  But, damn it he scared the living Jebebus out of me!  I sat up fast, only to find that I'd had the worst headache ever.  Even worse than anything I'd ever woken up with after a long night of binge drinking.  My whole head hurt, and the pain spread down my spine and across nerves into my shoulders and back and arms and legs…really, I just hurt all over.

            "Do not try to move," Glorfindel spoke with a soothing voice.  It was the most calming voice I'd ever heard.  My heartbeat was quickly back to normal.  "You were struck on the back of the neck, Minaimîr – it is a good thing indeed that you are not dead."

             "Glorfy?" Was that croaking sound my voice?  Yeech!  I hadn't really listened to myself up 'till then. 

            "Aye, I am here," the Elf answered.  I dimly realized that he hadn't even minded the horrible shortening of his name that I'd used.

            "It's been you all along?"

"Aye," he answered gravely.  

"Shit.  Where's Fiona?" I asked suddenly, finding a way to know about my twin.  I tried to sit up again, but Glorfy's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

            "Anórmír is with the Lord Elrond for healing, Lady, and is alive and well."

            I sighed in relief.  "Good."  Knowing that Fiona was alive and well took a large weight off my chest and I lay back down again, feeling my eyes drift close.  "So you heard everything then."

"I did, _tithen pen_," he replied to my question that was more like a statement.  I would have put my head in my hands if it hadn't hurt so farking much to move.

"Bloody farking hell."  This was not good.  "Then you know everything about how we got here, and those snippets of my past."

"I do now, Lady, because you told me."  He did not chide me for lying, but I didn't really care at the time.

I gave a half-hearted laugh.  "Great," I said sarcastically.  "And what say you now, Golden Hair?"  I'm never the best when I'm scared shitless after thinking I'm in the darkest, dankest dungeons on the face of the planet.  

He replied in Elvish, so I don't know what he said.  "What?" I asked confusedly.

"Sleep, Minaimîr," he said, looking down on me with the fullest smile I'd ever seen him wear.  "You need your rest to recover your strength."

I sighed; my eyes were getting heavier.  "Glorfy?"

He sighed himself.  It might have been the name change.  "Yes, Minaimîr?"

"I miss my family."  I'm not entirely sure what made me say that, but…well, perhaps it was because I was so tired, and still in 'spill-my-guts' mode. 

"I know you do, _gwaloth_."  I have no idea what that word was, but he spoke it with…affection, it seemed.  Soft hands pulled covers up to my chin and smoothed them down.  They seemed to hesitate near my face, but my eyes were closed now, so I didn't see.  I couldn't even try to open them.

"Glorfy?" I mumbled.  

"Yes, Lady?"

"I'm sorry I've been so forward."  This was definitely 'Rhiannon-spills-her-guts time'!  Once I start, it seems, I can't stop.  

His reply was again in Elvish.  I made up my mind to learn the language as soon as I could.  Hopefully I'd have all eternity.      

On the very edge of sleep, the soothing sounds of Glorfy's voice speaking once more made it to my ears.

            "Do not ever scare me in that way again," he whispered softly.  I wanted to answer but my jaw wouldn't move.  A hand slipped under the blankets to enclose mine, and another smoothed back the hair from my forehead and began a rhythmic stroking.  "_Melyanna nîn_, _minaimîr nîn_.  Never again."

            "I'll try," I finally managed, but only just barely.  The last thing I felt as I dropped into a restful sleep was a pair of lips caressing my brow.           


	12. War leads to Arguments

  Alright, reflecting on the moment, I realise that what we were doing was extremely dumb. I confess! Not all my ideas are good, and when I was angry at the time of the decision, you can almost be 100% positive that I wasn't thinking clearly when the notion came to my head. In fact, I probably wasn't thinking at all. I'm not sure where the notion of sneaking off to join the battle elsewhere. Of course, elsewhere only came about because I knew the shit we'd be in if we were caught fighting where people knew us by sight.

  I glanced at Rhiannon and her eyes reflected the same shock and sudden doubt that I felt, but she gritted her teeth and looked at me. Never one to be left behind, or betray my sister when she needed it most, I gave a sharp nod, hoping that I looked more confident than my jelly-knees portrayed.

  We lifted our swords in the air and shouted…

  "BOOBINATOR!!!"

  Even now, I cringe at the thought of how much we humiliated ourselves when we said that. I don't know why we said, or even how we manage to know what it was that the other was going to say…but we did. That was our proud Battle Cry.

  I feel like such an idiot whenever I remember that…even a Xena yodel would've been in better standing.

  I don't quite remember throwing myself into the fray; I woke from a strange forgotten dream to find myself back-to-back with Rhiannon, slicing and dicing orcs without much technique other than to kill the bloody bastards (pun not intended). Those buggers are suicidal; they have even less skill than I do and yet they still hurl themselves at you, in the blind hope that they'll knock you over without impaling themselves on your sword. Which of course, just wasn't happening.

  As the orcs around us fell to our feet, Rhiannon and I were given a moment to glance around. I couldn't see anyone I recognised, but then everybody was covered in orc blood and if the good guys hadn't worn such distinct armour, I might've had trouble telling. I know you're thinking that orcs are so much uglier than Elves and that you'd be able to spot the difference in a second…well, so can I. Don't get me wrong- but there were men now mingled with the Elves, and some of those men were butt ugly. The fact that they hadn't shaved in yonks made them hairy-butt-faced warriors. But they were fighting on our side, so it wasn't prudent to kill them.

  The hairy-butt-faced warriors fighting for the _other_ side however, were a completely different matter. Rhiannon and I didn't meet any of those, but we saw them fighting a distance off.

  "Gil-galad," I murmured, spotting him amongst the largest and thickest crowd of Elves vs. Orcs. "Rhiannon!" I called, but she was already at my side, eyeing off Glorfindel.

  "Do we go to help them?" she queried. "Or do we join the Elves behind us?"

  "We're going to be in trouble if they find us here," I reminded. "What do _you_ think we should do?" I turned to read the expression of my best friend and recently-become sister; I snorted with laughter.

  Rhiannon's face was in a blissful goofy smile. My grin faded as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, she closed her eyes and fell over forward, not even putting her hands forth to cushion her fall, as her reaction should have been. I blinked dumbfounded, looking at my Elven sister now lying at my feet.

  I looked up to find the cause of Rhiannon's sudden dead-to-the-world fall and leapt back in fright. Those orcs were _hideous! They could easily have given anybody nightmares for the rest of eternity._

  And they'd just knocked Rhiannon unconscious.

  I stepped back, treading awkwardly over the bodies already littering the ground. I didn't step back far, not liking the idea of leaving my comatose Elf-sister lying on the ground for the orcs to take and ugh! I shuddered at the thought my overactive imagination had created for me.

  The orc who'd done Rhiannon in grinned evilly and opened his mouth to roar at me. I must say, I was not so frightened of the noise he/it made, but more of the possibility that I might breathe in its foul stench and die of asphyxiation. I wrinkled my noise in distaste of the creature before me.

  "She-Elf!" it sneered at me. It stumbled/crawled/walked- I can't describe it the awful gait of the orcs- over to me, raising its axe threateningly.

  I gripped my sword tightly, praying for some help. Without Rhiannon at my back or my side, I was knee deep in dead bodies. Ok, that pun was intended, and it was bad, but at that point in my life, I couldn't find anything to laugh about and I admit I was very scared. Rhiannon's my confidence and my courage…without her, my spine takes off and leaves me a quivering mess.

  When the orc attacked, I realised it must have been a leader or maybe just properly trained, because I struggled to defend myself. This orc was even better that Captain Dumbass.

  I cried out in pain as I felt the orc-axe slice through my armour and my side. I dropped to my knees, letting go of my sword as the pain overwhelmed my conscious mind and senses. It burnt, and I grasped my side tightly, my face contorted in agony.

  A whooshing sound followed by a now all too familiar thump. I looked up to see the orc poised over me to deliver the final blow that would have killed me…but it was the orc who was dead. I knew that from the moment I saw the perfectly fletched arrow protruding from its head. I screamed when it fell on me- not so much from terror as it was from pain. The orc was heavy and its weight fell on my wounded side.

  I turned my head to one side, watching as the orc's companions were shot down as they ran to escape their predators. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall down my cheeks.

  I decided that it _had been a **really very stupid** idea for Rhiannon- Minaimîr- and I to join the battle. _

  Glorfindel had been right; we could do well enough, but the moment something went wrong, we were in trouble.

  "Anórmír," I heard a beautiful voice whisper, fear and concern in that single word.

  I opened my eyes. Gil-galad looked down at me tenderly, stroking my hair. He pushed the orc corpse off my body and held me closer. I winced as my wound reminded me of its existence.

  Gil-galad moved my hand and looked at the cut the orc had given me. His face revealed nothing, but he scooped me into his arms and rose from the ground, even as the horns and cheers sounded the victory of the Last Alliance that day.

  I closed my eyes again, dizziness overcoming me as Gil-galad carried me from the battlefield.

  "Ow!" I shrieked, slapping Elrond's hand sharply as he tried to undo the buckle holding my armour on.

  "Lady Anórmír, I have to get the armour off to be able to heal you," Elrond said firmly, his patience worn thin. Once Gil-galad had left me in the tent – mine and Minaimîr's, I noted somewhat disappointedly, though Minaimîr hadn't been brought here; I guessed she'd been taken to Glorfindel's tent – I had slowly become more aware of what was happening, and now Elrond was here. I suspected that the cause of his irritation was possibly due to the fact that Minaimîr and I had deliberately disobeyed the instructions of our superior, i.e. in this instance, Glorfindel. I surmised that I could expect much the same manner from any number of others that I knew.

  "Fine- but let me do it," I snapped. I cringed as I found that I could not bend my arms without stretching the already painful wound.

  Elrond glared triumphantly at me and resumed what he'd been doing.

  "Do you have to be so rough?" I whined. I was in a bad mood again. Things hadn't gone my way and I didn't like the fact that I knew I was in trouble- yet again in as many days.

  Elrond peeled my armour off and lifted my shirt to view the profusely bleeding wound. "It is not as bad as it looks. It bleeds freely, but there is no poison and the cut is not so deep. You are lucky, Lady Anórmír."

  I grimaced. "Well, it flaming well hurts!" I declared tetchily.

  "That is your own fault," Elrond retorted indifferently. He began wiping the blood away, not taking the least bit of care. For a healer, it wasn't very gentle. Obviously his healing skills would come later. I couldn't imagine that this was the best the descendant of a Maia could do. 

  I gritted my teeth against the pain and glared at him, but he seemed not to notice; thus it was that he was unsuspecting, as I grasped his shoulder for a moment as though leaning on him for support then punched his face with my clenched fist. Satisfied, I watched as the momentum threw him back several paces, his face turning away from me.

  "What did you do that for?" Elrond enquired flatly, wiping his mouth and looking at it to make sure that he wasn't bleeding.

  I shrugged acting indifferent.

  "Anórmír!"

  I felt my cheeks go red with shame as I looked to where Gil-galad stood at the entrance to the tent.

  Elrond got to his feet, finishing the cleaning and dressing of my wound. I dropped my dirty and ripped shirt down over it, getting to my feet. I made to move past Gil-galad, but he grasped my shoulders.

  "Where do you think you are going?" the High King of the Elves asked in his authoritative voice.

  "To check on my sister," I replied, trying to keep the heat of anger from my tone. "I assume she was taken to Glorfindel's tent?"

  Gil-galad's gaze met my own. "Why did do it, Anórmír?"

  It was inevitable that he was going to ask that, and yet I still had no reason that would satisfy him. "We were angry, foolish, reckless. Take your pick," I said, brushing past him and emerging from the tent. I looked around to get my bearings before heading off in the direction that I knew Glorfindel's tent to be in.

  "Anórmír," Gil-galad called sternly. "Do not walk away from me!"

  "I have nothing more to say, my Lord," I replied, not stopping and not looking back.

  The Noldorin Elvenking caught up to me easily, blocking my path once again. "Anórmír," he repeated. "Tell me why you did it! And think not to evade my question this time!"

  I was vaguely aware of many Elves who'd stopped what they were doing to watch us.

  "I told you!" I stated frustrated. This argument was hurting me. I didn't want Gil-galad to be angry with me, and I didn't like that I couldn't even think of a rational reason why Minaimîr and I had been so foolish. "We were angry to begin with; then Glorfindel told us in no uncertain terms that we were to stay in a tent- to which he then escorted us. We do not take well to being told what to do when our minds are made up. We wanted to help!"

  "If you would wait until your teachers tell you that you are ready, then you could help us- _without_ getting yourselves injured in the process!" Gil-galad retorted hotly.

  "It's our lives! What do you care?" I countered angrily.

  "I could have lost you, Anórmír!" Gil-galad blurted out.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but my fury dissipated as his words registered in my mind.

 _I could have lost you, Anórmír!_

  Gil-galad, sensing my sudden surprise and the blow that led to my defeat, stepped forward and took my hands in his own.

  I stared at how tiny my hands were in his, then looked up at his now gentle face. I was left dumbfounded and speechless, my mind reeling.

  The High King of the Elves took advantage of this, lowering his lips softly to my own…

  Sweet bliss…

  As I closed my eyes and let this Elf convey his love. For a moment I remembered nothing, thought of nothing but Gil-galad's tender kiss. Time seemed to stop, but when he withdrew, it was all too soon.

  I took a deep breath; his kiss had drawn the very breath from my body. I gazed into his eyes, and looked into his soul…


	13. An Aftermath Doesn't Necessarily Have To...

I've tried monkeying with the formatting, seeing as how this is the one chapter that has never behaved before. Sorry if it's still wonky; I haven't the foggiest as to why.

~Lai

* * *

At some point, I awoke again to find myself wrapped in warm arms. I tried turning my head to see who held me from behind, but really, I needed no glance to say. Glorfindel's arms were the same as when he'd carried me down from the back of his horse, all those nights ago. Score one for me! I finally got my Elf snuggling! My face held a definite grin as I went back to sleep.

* * *

"Minaimîr."

The sound of my Elvish name drew me out of the worst dream I'd ever had, where I'd been hurt in a battle and had spent the entire night spilling my guts to Glorfindel…

"Wake up, _tithen pen_. Your sister of spirit is here to see you."

Sister of spirit? Shit! It hadn't been a dream! He knew that Fiona and I weren't actually related…oh _crap_! I cracked my eyes open only to close them again because sunlight was coming in through the open tent flaps and it hurt. A dull throbbing continued in my skull and the back of my neck, warning me against sitting up.

"Hey sis," Fiona chimed, coming in the open flaps and blocking out the sunlight. She was just in time to witness Glorfy brush his lips against my forehead again before slipping out. She watched him leave with one eyebrow raised, but said nothing.

"How's the neck?"

"Hurts like a bitch," I replied dryly, still feeling mighty smug from Glorfy's lips on my forehead…if only they'd been a bit lower... Ahem! Anyway, my voice was still hoarse from all that talking I did through the night. "How long have I been out?" "The battle was three days ago," Fiona replied.

"_Three days_?" Okay, maybe it was more than one night…did I sleep days then? I don't think I slept, but there must have been pauses…

"Yeah…Elrond wasn't sure at first that you'd escaped brain damage – well, more than you have already, anyway." She grinned and I gave a half-hearted glare. "So he told Glorfy to keep you up until he was sure. Apparently, you did that yourself – by spilling our past to Glorfindel. He didn't actually have to say anything."

So I hadn't slept then…blindfold? Temporary blindness? Why the hell had it been so dark? Still though, I blushed furiously.

"I thought I was in the dungeons of Barad-dûr! I only babbled to keep from going insane…and I thought that Glorfy was just a shadow man, a figment of my imagination. Plus, I couldn't see anything."

"I know. I've since filled Gil-galad in my half…don't worry…they would have found out sooner or later.

"So how come you're not wounded?" I asked after a moment of silence, wondering why Fiona got to be so chipper and up and about. Something was not fair about this.

"I was. Same Orc that got you nailed me with his axe, right in the side. Elrond managed to heal me. And he was none too gentle."

She drew up her shirt and I got a look at a wound that I would have gladly gone the rest of my existence without seeing. I closed my eyes – it hurt too much to turn my head.

"How'd you get out of that mess? How did I, for that matter?" I was interested to know. The last I remember of the battle was Glorfy, so close and yet so far away.

"I didn't see much, but Ereinion tells me the Glorfy got you, and fought like a madman to get to you."

I smiled and raised an eyebrow, refraining from commenting.

"But how did you get out? You didn't answer my question."

"Ereinion got me." She looked suddenly…embarrassed? What the hell? Why was her face suddenly red? I looked at her sideways.

"Gil-galad got you out?"

"Yeah, and took me to Elrond for healing. Damn," she continued, obviously happy to switch topics, "that Elf needs a better description than 'healer'. That wasn't healing that he was doing, and it hurt so much I punched his lights out."

"Go you!" Elrond needed some smartening up, although it must be known that I am _very_ grateful for his work towards making sure I was alive. "Did you get in trouble for that?"

"Yeah, Ereinion saw me and got pissed." I nodded slightly.

"Fiona," I began slowly. "Why do you keep calling him 'Ereinion'?"

Her face flushed bright red. "Um…because that's his name?" she ventured. I knew she was hiding something.

"Fiona," I said warningly.

"Yes?" The picture of blushing innocence…

"Have you been getting some Elf action that you haven't been telling me about?"

I expected an outraged "NO!" or even a wistful 'no, unfortunately not' or…anything, really, except for an even deeper colour of red in her cheeks and her head to go down.

"You _have_ been getting Elf action!" I yelled, sitting up quickly and ignoring the pain that caused. The squeal that I emitted right then didn't help much, but I still somehow managed to fling my arms around my blushing and giggling twin and give her a hug. "That's wonderful!" I pulled back a little. "Did he kiss you? Or did you kiss him? Or…" I stopped, my mind presenting images that I didn't necessarily want. "Did you…?"

"No!"

I grinned. "Is that because you're wounded?"

"Yes. I mean no!" She looked flustered. "We're just not…I mean…I'm not…"

"Hee hee! Has he seen the lingerie yet?"

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Just checking."

I lay back down again, slowly. My head hurt really badly now but I didn't care. "Now. Details. Give."

"Well…" she began hesitantly. Thankfully, for her sake, Glorfy returned. "Is all well, Ladies?" he asked. Damn he's hot when he's concerned!

"Yes," Fiona replied. "Minaimîr and I were just chatting."

"I heard screams of pain," he said, looking back and forth between us, as though accusing us of keeping information from him.

"Those were squeals of excitement," I replied defensively. "Don't worry, Glorfy," I added. "I'm not getting too excited."

"Lady, I heard that 'squeal of excitement' from the other side of the camp," Glorfy retorted firmly, arms crossed over his muscular chest. "If you cannot remain calm during your sister's visits, I will be forced to have the High King cause them to be ceased!"

"You will do no such thing!" I said angrily, sitting up again. My outburst would have been more effective if I hadn't swayed suddenly and fallen back down onto the pile of cushions. Fiona stood (was pushed, really) out of the way as Glorfy came in for the rescue once more. He helped me back to the position I'd been lying in before.

"You must be careful, _melyanna_," he said chidingly. "It is bad enough that you disobey orders concerning your life. Do not carry this trend through to your health."

I stuck my tongue out at him, even though I was having a great deal of fun letting his hands roam over my arms and then down my legs as he straightened my covers and I out. He sighed exasperatedly and turned to Fiona.

"Is she always as such, Lady?" he asked.

"No," Fiona responded with a grin. "Normally she's worse."

I would have paid good money to see the look on his face right then, but he was facing away from me, and so I missed it.

Fiona stood back. "Get some rest, Minaimîr," she said.

I wondered why she was using my Elvish name, rather than my real one, and that concerned me. 'Rhiannon' is really the last link that I have to my past life, with the exception of Fiona. My parents gave me that name, and I like it. I like 'Minaimîr' too, but…damn it, 'Rhiannon' is my _name_.

"I'll come visit again soon."

"You do that," I replied and gave a little wave. "Tiddly boogles, yo!" Fiona raised an eyebrow and grinned before slipping out the tent door.

"Tiddly boogles?" Glorfy asked when she was gone.

"Made it up," I replied dismissively. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"Ah." I could almost see him filing that under 'analyze later' before jumping thought tracks. "I have sent for water so that you may bathe, Minaimîr."

"Sweet! Thanks, Glorfy," I said earnestly. "I'm in dire need of a bath."

"And a good scolding," Glorfy added in a mutter as he stood again. "You are foolish and reckless with other's feelings."

"What?" Where the hell had this come from? Really, I had an idea. Oh boy…enter the sap…

"I could have lost you," he said softly, without a speck of anger. "You were told to remain in the tent because you were untrained, and we do not send the untrained to battle, regardless if they want to help." He seemed more hurt than angry, and that stung me more than if he'd slapped me. Shame fisted me in the stomach. I had let him down, disobeyed…but _I_ can make my own choices. There's always the other side of the coin. But Glorfy continued.

"You scared me more than I have ever been scared, even when I faced a Balrog of Morgoth. Do not ever do that to me again." He really does care, I realized. Despite all my forwardness, the groping of his arse, and telling him exactly what I thought of him while babbling through the night, he still… The implications of this slammed into my belly, but I pushed them away for further thought, when he wasn't around and when I'd have time to myself. I vaguely recalled that he'd made me promise this the last time I remember speaking to him.

"I'll try."

"Do more than try." It was the closest to forceful that he really ever came, at least in this. He looked down at me with twilight blue eyes that had beheld so much…pain, laughter, beauty and evil…he was so old!

Coherent thought nearly left completely, at that point. It doesn't really have a chance, when faced with the eyes of an Elf several thousand years old – and still bloody hot, I might add. He came down slowly back to my level. Stiffly, I reached up and touched his face.

"I cannot promise that I won't do anything stupid," I said. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, Glorfy, but I've tried that before. Doing stupid things that could get me killed seems to be a part of my nature that I can't shake. I didn't look when Fe and I crossed that road…if I had, we might have been able to miss the truck."

"But I would never have met you," he almost whispered. I barely heard it.

"Nor I you," I admitted. "And that is one reason why I am glad I got hit by a truck. Besides," I began, to lighten the mood, "if I ever do something that stupid again, then you can hunt me down and give me a good spanking."

His eyes widened; I grinned at him.

"Spanking?"

"Because I will be a very naughty girl," I elaborated. I don't think he got the reference because he only looked confused. I couldn't stop the giggle. "Never mind, Glorfy…it's…just never mind."

He shook his head. "You are very odd, Minaimîr," he said. "But I do not count that as ill favour."

I smiled. "Good. Because being 'odd' is a damn sight better than what passes for normal these days…or those days…or…whenever. Either way, this is a great deal more fun."

"Yes. You spoke at great length of having 'fun' through the night 'because life is something you only appreciate when you're dead', and so, therefore, fun is paramount to safety."

There was a slight smirk on his cat-like features and I rolled my eyes.

"When you die, Glorfy," I began, "you'll work that out too."

The sudden serious expression on his face startled me. I wondered what could have drawn this out. He rose suddenly, walking to the other side of the tent and not speaking, nor looking at me.

"Glorfindel?" Serious situations call for the serious use of names. Well, sometimes.

"What did I say wrong?"

"Nay, _tithen pen_, you have not offended me. Instead, you have chanced upon an instance in my history which I think that only you – and perhaps the Lady Anórmír – are able to truly understand." He stopped talking, and I waited, knowing – somehow – that he would tell me in his own time. "I fought a Balrog of Morgoth, many, many years ago. I shall not go into particulars, but in that battle, I died."

_Oh dear_.

He crossed the tent and crouched down in front of me again, looking into my eyes with those sapphire beauties of his. "I found myself in the Halls of Mandos, where the souls of the Elvish kin go to rest when we die, either from battle or broken hearts. It felt like home, and yet it was not. I was not ready, in my heart, to leave my life, although I had accepted the chance – the certainty – that I would when I fought the Balrog. There was something yet that I had to do, and I believe I have found what it was."

I blushed again and looked down. One finger under my chin brought my head up again.

"So indeed, Lady," he continued, "I believe that I understand at least some of your mind. The rest however – your way of existence prior to your apparent death, your mannerisms, why it is you are like no other…it is a mystery and one I shall enjoy solving."

Wow…I had no idea…No wonder he looked so hungry for answers all those nights ago when he interrogated me! It had confused me then, what he had been looking for, but now I knew. I suppose I would have known if I'd read anything other than _The Lord of the Rings_, but I had never gotten around to finishing the _Silmarillion_, or the _Unfinished Tales,_ or any of the other thousands of books on Tolkien's Elves. This, I realized, was very unfortunate. At least now I could get the original versions…

"You believed yourself alone in this," I said slowly. "That you had been the only one to die in such a way and return, separated from all you'd ever known."

He smiled the fullest, most tender smile I had ever seen upon his face before lifting one hand and trailing it down my cheek. He whispered something in Elvish that I couldn't hear before rising again and slipping out, returning with a goblet and a thoughtful expression.

"When you spoke of a spanking," he began as he handed me the goblet. The sudden shift in mood confused me, and his question had me weary. Still, I put the goblet to my lips and took a sip of the water it contained. "Did you speak of a reference to the use of pain for pleasure when making love?"

I don't think I've ever spewed a drink before, but…damn it, hot Elves should _not_ pull questions like that on you when you have liquid in your mouth! It's not nice!

"Minaimîr!" Glorfy said concernedly, coming over quickly and kneeling at my side. "Are you well?"

"Just fine, Glorfy-boy," I managed between hacking coughs. "Couldn't you have waited to ask that question until I'd finished drinking?" I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve and gave one last cough. "Bloody hell. That hurt." My neck had seized up during my coughing fit and I could barely move my shoulders.

"I am sorry, _melyanna_, for causing you more pain when you should be resting." He's so cute when apologizing! Damn it, if he ever uses that pouty face on me to get me to do something…I'll be helpless.

"Don't worry about it," I replied dismissively and put the goblet down. I sat back and winced.

Someone outside called out in Elvish, and Glorfy went to investigate. He came back in with a nameless – but hot – Elf, helping him carry a large tub and an even bigger kettle of hot water. Steam rose from the top of the kettle, and I wondered how long that water had been boiling. And how heavy that farking thing was! This is a perfect example of the strength of Elves versus Men. That kettle was cast iron and filled to the brim with water _and only two Elves needed to carry it_, which they did without so much as a flinch or a cringe.

Still though, muscles stood out quite nicely against the fabric of Glorfindel's tunic and I was treated to a lovely view of the sort of lean body that get women's minds all a flutter. I watched as they poured the steaming water into the tub and with a grin realized that I was going to get the luxury of actually being able to soak in the water rather than just have sponge bath. I don't think I could have moved my arms enough to give myself a bath anyway. I briefly considered the possibility of Glorfy giving me one…and then dropped the mental subject, because if I continued along that line of thought, I'd never get clean.

The unnamed hot Elf left, and Glorfy turned back to me.

"Do you need my help, Minaimîr? I know we have no female attendants to bathe you, but…"

It was a moment before I could reply. I thought my jaw was going to fall off.

"It's all right, Glorfy, I can bathe myself. Thank you, though," I added. _It would be nice if you bathed me,_ I added in the privacy of my own head, _but_… Ah…dreams for later.

"Very well. I shall be in the antechamber, should you call." With a small smile – and was that disappointment? – he bowed slightly and left me to my bath.

For an instant I almost called him back to help…and realized that a few days ago, I would have. And, a few days ago, he would have run like hell rather than even suggest the possibility that I might end up naked in his presence. But now…now that I knew that he knew that I…I love him (it's getting easier to write and not feel girly and stupid. I LOVE GLORFINDEL!!!)…now that I knew that he knew…I couldn't bring myself to be so forward. I had reverted back to my old shy ways, perhaps out of fear of what he thought, or what might happen, or if he didn't feel the same.

No…he felt the same. He had to. He understood what I felt with dying and turning up here…and he said that he was glad that I had…he felt the same, only he didn't quite show it as much as I did…

Damn bloody hell! What the hell am I supposed to do now? Act normal…yeah, Rhiannon, that's it! Act like you've always been acting! Grin at the hot ones, bother Elrond as much as possible, and continue to ignore all protocol and formalities except in certain circumstances, like encountering a pissed off Gil-galad.

And speaking of Gil-galad…I should pay him a little visit. Because if he hurts Fiona in any way… Oooo…I will un-Elf him with a blunt object and leave bits for the carrion birds that were hanging around in huge flocks. _No one_ hurts my sister. _Especially_ kings.

* * *

When I finally got out of my clothes – a total pisser in the ass – I found that getting into the tub wasn't much of a problem. Walking stiffly to the huge tub of water, I climbed in slowly.

Ah…luxury! When I finally sat in the tub, I just let the hot water soak away all the tension in my shoulders, and the dirt from my skin. Taking a small breath, I sank down, submersing my head. I stayed there for as long as I could before needing to take another breath, and then sat up slowly.

I luxuriated until the water got cold, knowing full well that I would likely not get another bath like this one for some time. It just isn't feasible letting one person have the long, hot baths while everyone else in the camp makes do with a cloth and a bowl. It's certainly nice, but…if I had to, I would go for the sponge bath. What I really wanted, though, was a shower.

Nothing beats a hot shower.

My only problem with the bath was that I was when I went to get out; I found that I was lacking a towel. I have to wonder whether or not Glorfindel did this on purpose, but, really, given how he has always behaved around me (and the Gentleman of the Millennium Award goes to…), I think he actually just forgot.

"Ummmm…Glorfy?"

"Yes, Minaimîr?" He stuck his head through the flaps separating my portion of the tent with the one he had been waiting in. His expression was carefully neutral. I wondered if this was the water level was barely high enough to cover my breasts if I sat up straight. I would have moved, but…well, it hurt. That's it. Yeah. It hurt too much.

"Is there some sort of towel I could use?"

"Of course, Lady," he said, but his words sounded a little forced. He disappeared for a moment before returning with a large robe, quite obviously his own.

It was huge. He held it up as I got out of the tub, his head turned until I was wrapped securely within the cloth.

"Thanks, Glorfy," I said when he'd finished, turning to look up at him. He was watching me with most curious expression that contained so many emotions that I couldn't decipher it. Then again, did I really want to? I was scared of what I might do, if I thought I knew what it was that he expressed. Make a bigger ass out of myself than I had ever done, probably, only this time, I'd remember every time I looked at him and wished…

Oh, what the hell am I going to _do?_ I've never had any sort of boyfriend before, which is part of the reason that I'm so friggin' forward most of the time. So now that there was such a strong possibility…I'm scared shitless.

Gently, he pulled my wet hair from beneath the robe and smoothed it out over my shoulders, running his fingers through and taking out some of the knots. The feeling of such fingers on your scalp is absolutely wonderful. I strongly recommend it.

"You are so small," he said, almost in wonder. "I cannot help but wish to protect you."

I kept silent, not knowing what to say. 'Put it down to genetics' wouldn't have meant anything to him and would have destroyed the moment. Ever so gently, his fingers migrated from the top of my hair and down my jaw line before moving back towards my now-pointed ears. Trembles played tag with one another up and down my spine. The ears of an Elf are extremely sensitive. _Extremely_. Not only just with hearing, but…holy damn… My breath caught and my eyes closed, letting the sensations take over.

"So very small," he whispered. I wanted to purr like a cat. My eyes still closed, I felt him lift my chin upward, felt his breath upon my cheek as he bent down close to…

I'm going to kill Elrond. I really am.

"Perhaps I should return later?" The High King's Herald asked. "Unless I should stay for the sake of chaperonage…" he left that sentence where it was. I think he enjoys breaking these sorts of things up and then making wisecracks about chaperones. If I hadn't been still reeling from the sensations that Glorfy had invoked, I would have said something, but I couldn't have at the time if I'd tried.

"Nay, my Lord," Glorfindel replied flatly. "Chaperonage is not needed." Apparently, he was as annoyed with Elrond as I was.

"Indeed," Elrond replied flatly. "I had come to check upon the Lady Minaimîr, although it seems that she is indeed well enough for you." Was that a grin? It had to be. His mouth kept twitching. "For her sake, I hope you know that she needs her rest."

Visions of exactly how I was going to kill him started dancing in my mind. First I was going to…and then…oooo…that could be fun…

"I am very much aware that she does, my Lord. If you do need to check upon your patient, please do so." Glorfy stepped back from me and I got the distinct impression that I was missing something without him being near. I realized, after I shivered, that it was body heat. And the other sort of heat, the type that comes from being that close to the Elf of your affection. I think you know what I mean.

Elrond had me lie down on the pile of blankets and cushions that I'd spent the last few nights in. I lay down on my stomach and one of them flipped my hair over the front of my face, so I could no longer see anything.

"You have a horrible bruise, Lady," Elrond said, pulling back my robe so that I lay before the pair of Elves, on my stomach, robe up to my waist. If I'd turned over, both of them would have been getting quite an eye full of the Twins. "It covers most of your back."

"Doesn't surprise me," I mumbled into the cushions. "Hurts like hell too."

"Yet you will live." He prodded a spot on my back and I yelped. I kicked out with one foot and landed a blow on an Elf leg. Neither of them made comment, but Elrond continued with his diagnosis. "The pain will likely continue for some many days yet. I do not recommend that you return to the battle until you have free movement of your arms once more."

"No argument here." I growled that. Partially because I had a mouth full of cushion, but mostly because Elrond's hands aren't anywhere near as gentle as they should be, for an Elf so old and experienced. Perhaps this was just his way of getting back at me for being yet another one of his patients.

"Nor here," Glorfy put in. "The Lady Minaimîr shall not return to the front lines without me at her side."

How sweet! But I didn't want to return to the front lines at all. I'd had enough of battles. Never again, if it were possibly avoidable, would I ever enter one willingly. I would have to be dragged.

"Have no worries about that," I said aloud. Well, I might go if Fiona was game…but only after I'd trained a whole farking lot more. The war was going to continue for another seven years…I had plenty of time to do something stupid.

"Indeed." Elrond said dryly. "Well," he continued as he stood, "I believe a few more day's rest shall be sufficient, and then light training to relieve the stiffness of your muscles."

I pulled the robe back up over my shoulders, made sure it was secure (didn't want to embarrass Glorfy, although…it was tempting…), and turned over slowly.

"What should I do in the mean time then? I don't know about you, but lying around with nothing to do drives me nuts."

"I have given some thought to this, and spoken with the King," Elrond replied, "and he has given me permission to have you start transcribing your story into the histories." He produced a thick, leather bound book from…somewhere about his person. You'd be surprised what Elves hide in their armour, at least the ones who are in charge of archives, anyway. An inkbottle and a pen soon followed.

"You mean the whole thing? Or just what I told Glorfy?"

"As much as you remember about your appearance here, and of these last days will be sufficient," Elrond replied. "I do believe that includes what you have told," he paused and looked with amusement at Glorfindel, "'Glorfy'."

Glorfy looked embarrassed and spoke quickly in Elvish. Elrond gave him the equivalent to a 'whatever' expression and bowed slightly.

"Lady, _Glorfy_," he said and then slipped out of the tent. I think the bugger was enjoying himself…maybe Fe hadn't hit him hard enough…whatever.

"You realize that this is going to be both messy and largely incoherent to anyone who doesn't read English, right?" I looked up at Glorfy as soon as Elrond had gone. "I mean, I'm not the neatest of writers even when I have lines on a page to follow."

I cracked open the book and found that a good lot of it was already filled. After a moment or two of reading, I realized that it was a word-for-word transcription of what I'd told Glorfy during the last few days. In English too. This was perfect.

"You wrote this down?"

"Aye, as you spoke."

"Bloody hell!"

"Does it not please you?" Glorfy looked suddenly worried. What the bloody hell had gotten into him? Why was he all of a sudden Mr. Manservant? It was nice…was it a by-product of what he was talking about before, the odd desire to protect me? That was certainly a viable option, and one that I liked the sounds of… Even the most independent women have a habit of wanting to be protected. Most of them just won't admit it, but…we're all mushy saps at heart.

Still, I stared at him in shock for a good moment.

"Of course I'm pleased," I eventually managed. "But…you didn't have to…" I looked down at the neat, tightly compacted writing. "How do you even know English?"

"It is the tongue of Men," Glorfy replied, puzzled. "You have been speaking it ever since you arrived."

"But…bloody hell! Are you even gleaning most of the concepts that I'm thinking about? Fark! This is…weird." I looked back down at the transcript. I could read it…it looked like the English alphabet…but… Bah. This was making my brain hurt even more. "Bloody hell," I muttered again. "Whatever."

I closed the book with a snap and put it next to the bed.

"I'll get to that in a bit," I added. Glorfy nodded.

"Good," he began, "for I have the perfect cure for your aches."

"You do?" I looked up at him, hopeful.

"It is one that Elrond can not deliver."

Wow…that was a secretive grin, if I'd ever seen one! I didn't know what it was in his eyes, but…oh boy… Why was his face getting so close? Not that I minded, but I really think I needed to brush my teeth, unless the mouths of Elves stay forever clean…

"I believe, Minaimîr," he continued, "that we were interrupted by Elrond at a moment very much like this."

Oh, sweet heaven! Sweet merciful crap! Oh my dear mother of Jebebus! HE'S KISSING ME!!!!!!

I don't know how long it lasted…hell, the world spun so much that I was very glad for the hand behind my back that helped me stay upright. After an instant or two of shock I felt silky hair under my fingers and knew I'd finally got to tangle my hands in his hair…and it was as nice as I had been imagining…

I pushed away any wonderings of 'what do I do now' and just lived the moment…holy damn…bloody, bloody hell!_ Here_ was the unlimited proof that Glorfy felt the same that I did. And, boy, was I ever enjoying this! When we finally broke apart, there were tears falling unchecked from my eyes.

With a smile on his lips (I kissed those lips just now! Me, the Boy-friend-less Wonder, had been _kissed_ by Glorfindel! I am _never ever_ going to forget this day!), he brushed my face, fingers going all over, as though he was memorizing each and every detail. (Hot _DAMN!_ Hot bloody mother damn holy shit on a pogo stick!)

"You need rest, lovely one," he said gently. "Here. Let me help." Slowly, with those wonderful, fine-boned hands of his, he pulled my still-wet hair up and out of the way, helping me lie down on my stomach to keep the pressure off my back. I sighed in contentment, although it came out more as a yawn. I found, much to my surprise, that I couldn't speak. Not that I really wanted to, but…a simple thank you would have been good.

And then I nearly shot right back up again when I felt the robe being pulled down once more. I didn't dare speak, not knowing exactly what was going on and…well, I was enjoying this, despite my thudding heart, and, yes, daring to hope beyond all hope that things were going to go further than I'd previously thought. Well, had actually thought; if you've ever seen Glorfy, you'd understand. I flinched slightly when his cool hands touched my shoulders, but after a moment, I relaxed, receiving the best massage that money certainly can't buy, because no one in modern times has the hands of an Elf. Or the lips of an Elf, for that matter. Although, it must be said that despite my tendency to throw myself at anything male that moved in my vicinity, provided it was hot, I am not the best judge when it comes to comparing the lips of human men to the lips of Elvish males.

My only regret of that day is that I fell asleep shortly thereafter.


	14. Bare Chested Bathings

A/N: BoL has agreed with me that to avoid changing our audience rating to R, I must put in a little warning about the content of this chapter. It gets a bit smutty (not sex, but there are many innuendos that suggest that may be the possible conclusion). You have been forewarned, so do not complain- I did warn you. If you are one of those people who ignore the Author's Notes, that's your problem.  
  
PS: If the formatting's off again.bah. We don't know what's up with it.and we haven't changed what we've been doing at all.

I didn't see Gil-galad for the rest of that day or the next. Glorfindel and I alternated sitting by Rhiannon's- Minaimîr, that is- side.

Glorfindel spent any time that he was not needed for the war to sit beside her, gazing at her with eyes of deep concern as Elrond tended the dark bruising at the base of her neck. I had known that Glorfindel cared for her, and that my adopted-sister was a complete dope for him, but I hadn't known how deep it went.

I wonder if Rhiannon knew. And if she knew what a scolding she was likely to be in for when she awoke.

Since my rather public argument with Ereinion Gil-galad, no one had thought to push the issue further, to force me to admit that I'd been wrong, but then again none spoke very much to me at all. I wondered if it were deliberate, the consequence for betraying their trust, or if perhaps it was just because they were so busy. They needed time to regroup, heal the wounded, cart the dead from the fields; neither the men nor Elves wished for their dead to lie buried in that desolate barren land. As the High King of the Elves, and co-commander of the Last Alliance itself, I knew Gil-galad would be the most busy of them all. Still, I had seen in his eyes, heard from his own mouth, that he cared at least as deeply for me as Glorfindel did for Rhiannon. I didn't like the idleness I was forced to endure each day, in which I spent all my time thinking about that beautiful Elf and his soft lips as he kissed me- between praying that Minaimîr would be alright, of course.

The stars shone brightly in the dark night sky, as I made my way to Gil-galad's tent. It wasn't early in the evening, nor was it particularly late, as there were still a greater number of people awake than those asleep. Dinner had been finished for quite sometime, so I reasoned that Gil-galad would be not be surrounded by people waiting his immediate attention.

There were guards posted at the four corners of his tent, naturally, but they didn't so much as blink until I made to move the tent flap back.

 I froze reactively as one of them grasped my wrist and the other held his weapon to me in warning that I should not go any further.

"I wished to see the High King," I stated, hoping they would not ask why.

They exchanged a glance. The Elf who had held my wrist let go warily. "Your name?"

"Anórmír," I replied slightly nervous.

The Elf-guard went inside the tent, while I stood anxiously outside, waiting.

He returned shortly, and gave me a short nod. "You may enter," he said, holding the tent flap open for me. His companion stood back to allow me through.

I stepped into the vague sort of antechamber, hesitating before pushing aside the next flap and entering the main section of the tent.

I blushed slightly when I saw Gil-galad; once again, he wore no shirt, and his muscles rippled as he turned to face me from his seat at his desk, his face enquiring soundlessly my reason for being there.

"I…" I swallowed, wetting my dry mouth before continuing with my rather pathetic but realistic excuse. "I feel useless, my Lord. These last few days, I have had nothing to do but to stay by my sister when Glorfindel is busy, but when he relieves me of that task, I am more often left at leisure to do as I will so long as I do not disturb anyone; but there is nothing that I can occupy my time with. Might you have a task or job of some kind that I may do?"

Gil-galad looked at me thoughtfully. "Had you not been injured as you are, I would have insisted that you practice your skills with weaponry, but I do not wish you to be hurt again. Maybe.how well do you know the camp of the Last Alliance?"

"I know its borders and where each Elf's or Man's command is stationed, but beyond that, I know little." I confessed timidly. My heart was pounding in my chest, wishing he would discard my pitiful excuse for being in his company and just kiss me again. I blushed at how frank my mind was in its desires and thoughts.

"Then starting tomorrow, you will map out the camp on parchment for me," he instructed. "Marking out where each captain, sergeant, corporal, commander and their soldiers are located, starting in my camp and then moving onto Círdan's. I want it to be as accurate as you can make it. You will work in the main pavilion, where myself and the other Lords make council. I do not want to let you out of my sight for very long, _neth__ elleth_."

I nodded acquiescingly, and gave him a small smile, my hands behind my back where I'd put them to disguise my nervous fidgeting. I glanced at the quill and ink lying upon the parchment on his desk. "More work, my Lord?" I asked. "Surely it is too late for such to be dealt with now? Many of the humans I imagine would be sleeping."

Gil-galad smiled and beckoned me further over. He did not seem to care so much to show me his work, as he did to put his arm around my waist. "I once thought so myself, but minor details are Elrond's problems to deal with, and he doesn't believe in letting things wait till morning. Of course, once it is out of his hands, he doesn't have to worry about it. I do."

I grinned then noticed the bowl of water that had been pushed aside to make room for the parchment. "He interrupted your bath?" I surmised. "Or rather, what passes for a bath in these times?"

Gil-galad chuckled and pulled me closer. "Indeed." He pulled me onto his lap and stroked my unruly hair behind my ear before kissing me.

sigh I could kiss him without ever stopping or ever getting bored.

At last he withdrew and sighed wistfully. "I wish I did not have to write this paper," he murmured, nuzzling my cheek. "I would rather spend my evenings very differently."

I suppressed a giggle, turning my attention to the cloth in the basin. Dipping my hands in to fetch it, I wrung most of the water out. "Then why don't we kill two orcs with one arrow?" I suggested, amending the common adage of birds and stones. Somehow I didn't think Elves would really appreciate it. "I'll wash you, while you write. I promise not to get in your way of your writing. I know it is important." To emphasize my point that I was not going to take 'no' for an answer, I ran the cloth over his neck and down his shoulder.

Gil-galad said nothing, but his eyes were closed as continued to wipe him with the moist cloth, rinsing it from time to time. The report lay forgotten on the desk. I kissed him chastely, his lips seeking out mine as I retreated to rub the cloth over his well-muscled chest.

I must admit, I enjoyed it as much as he did. I had the perfect opportunity to explore his wonderful torso without feeling the least bit self-conscious and embarrassed at what I was doing.

When I realized that I couldn't clean him much more on his front, I took to his strong arms. He seemed reluctant to release his arms from my waist, almost certain that I was going to leave somehow, thus every time I made a movement which he deemed might be my escape, his arms- wet and drying- wrapped themselves around my waist again.

"My Lord, You are going to have to trust me, if I am to clean you properly," I chided teasingly.

"Ereinion. My name is Ereinion. I am 'My Lord' or 'Gil-galad' to my fellow Elves and Lords. To you, I am simply Ereinion." He insisted. I heard the groan deep in his throat as I kissed him lightly.

"Ereinion," I whispered, liking the sound of his name on my tongue.

I returned the cloth to the basin and stood up. Ereinion opened his eyes and grasped my wrists quickly, his breathing deep and faster than was normal.

"I am not going anywhere," I assured him. For the moment, my wicked mind cackled. "But if I am to wash your back." I left my sentence for him to interpret. I knew he would not like the notion of my having to stand behind him, and not sitting in his arms, and I found teasing him such fun. He pulled me closer and I straddled his lap, a leg to either side of his waist. I wrapped my arms around him as though cuddling him, but I continued my façade of washing his back.

Ereinion moaned softly, but it was not from terrible pain...at least, not a wound like the gash in my side. Ereinion had his eyes closed again and submitted to the pleasurable torture I inflicted upon him. He trusted me in this way, and thus it was, I was able to tie the large cloth around one of his wrists and pull it behind his back along with his other arm, to tie it with the other half of the cloth. When I finished tying his hands together, I sat back to look at him.

Ereinion gazed upon me openly, his face lit in a mischievously knowing smile. "And what would you do to me, Anórmír?" he asked teasingly. "You have sparked my curiosity." He leant forward as much as he could with his arm tied behind the back of the chair, enticing me into a soft kiss.

I grinned impishly at him. I ran my index fingers across the tips of his ears, delighting as he shivered and gasped. "Sweet dreams, my Lord," I replied, sliding back off his lap.

Ereinion's eyes snapped open. "Anórmír!" he struggled against the tight knots I had made of the cloth binding his wrists. His struggling only made them tighter. "Anórmír, do not leave me…not like this…Anórmír!...Get back here!" I tried not to smirk as I quietly and calmly left him there, straining to free himself, whilst he called my name.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Rhiannon had awoken late last night. The surprise turned to fear and shock as Glorfindel admitted to me that he knew the truth of whence I came; it seemed Rhiannon had blabbed it. I doubt she would have if she'd been of a right mind, though Glorfindel assured me that her mind remained intact. Then my assumption was that her raging hormones had too, since I could think of no other reason why she'd have spilled the beans to anyone.

Glorfindel graciously allowed me to visit her before he went to tell the High King. I entered Glorfy's tent just in time to see him kiss her forehead. I raised an eyebrow in silent mocking question, carefully assuming a cheerful poise as he brushed past me and out.

"Hey sis, how's the neck?" I enquired, just in case he could still here us. And I was genuinely concerned; it had worried me the notion of losing my only friend and confidant in this foreign world.

"Hurts like a bitch," she mumbled. "How long has I been out?"

"The battle was three days ago," I answered evenly. Damn you to hell if you thought I was going to let her get any hint of my real emotions. She'd interrogate me until she had all the details and there was certainly some things I was not going to tell her!

"Three days?" she shrieked.

"Yep. Elrond wasn't sure if you'd escaped brain damage - well, more than you have already anyway," I added with a grin. She glared at me through half-woken eyes. "So he told Glorfy to keep you up until he was sure. Apparently, you did that yourself - by blabbing our past to Glorfindel. He didn't actually have to say anything." I couldn't kept the hint of anger from my voice. I felt betrayed almost. Things were just getting better, and now we were going to be in trouble again.

"I couldn't help it! I thought I was in the dungeons of Barad-dûr! I only babbled to keep from going insane...and I thought that Glorfy was just a shadow, a figment of my imagination. It was too dark - I couldn't see anything."

I sighed. "I'm going to have to fill Gil-galad in with my half sooner or later. I suppose it was too much to hope that we- you- could actually keep a secret."

She ignored my comment. "So how come you're not wounded?"

"I was. Same orc that belted you got me with his axe- he was one ugly son-of-a-bitch! - in my right side. Elrond 'healed' me but he was not very gentle about it." I lifted up my shirt to show her. Elrond had taken the bandage off claiming that the wound needed to breath and would heal faster this way.

Rhiannon wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Ok, that's enough. How the heck did you get out of that mess? And how did I, for that matter?"

"I didn't see much but Ereinion tells me that Glorfy got you out, fighting like a madman to get to you." I carefully omitted to answer her first question, hoping she wouldn't ask. I didn't want her teasing me. But alas, she knows me too well.

"You didn't answer my question. But how did you get out?" Suspicion was clear in her now clear eyes.

"Ereinion." I felt my cheeks go red and hoped Rhiannon wouldn't notice in the dim light. I was not comfortable with the idea of spilling to her what I'd done last night.

"Gil-galad got you out?"

"Yeah, and took me to Elrond for healing. Damn that Elf needs to work on his healing skills! It hurt so much that I punched his lights out." Ok, a slight exaggeration there, but I knew Rhiannon would appreciate it as much I had felt satisfied doing it.

"Go you!" she grinned. "Did you get into trouble for that?"

"Yeah. Ereinion saw me and got rather peevish about it."

Rhiannon nodded, suspicion written on her every feature. What had I let slip? "Fiona…why do you keep calling him 'Ereinion'?"

Oh for crying out loud! I'm such an idiot at times! My face was definitely red as I wracked my brain for a convincing excuse.

"Because it's his name?" I cursed myself for making it sound like a question. What was I supposed to say? 'I gave him a bath last night, he seemed to enjoy it, and told me that I was to call him Ereinion.' ?

"Fiiiooonnnaaaa.."

"What?" The innocence I lathered on that single word made me cringe inwardly, but I wasn't going to stop lying now.

"Have you been getting some Elf action that you haven't been telling me about?"

I opened my mouth to deny vehemently 'of course not!' but it must have gotten lost somewhere on its way from my brain to my vocal chords as I remembered the previous night, telling myself that I was right- giving him a bath was certainly not 'Elf action', though the manner in which I had done so.

Apparently I took too long to reply because Rhiannon sat up suddenly and squealed at the top of her voice (and much to my embarrassment; I prayed no one would hear it outside), "You have been getting Elf action!"

'No!' was meant to be my denial but she was hugging me before I knew what was happening.

"That's wonderful!" she squealed. "Did he kiss you?...Or did you kiss him? Or." She paused, and all sorts of things were implied in that silent query. "Did you.?"

"No!" I almost shrieked with outrage.

"Is that because you're wounded?"

"Ye- No!" I searched my flustered mind for a suitable answer to get myself out of this predicament. "We're just not…I mean…I'm not."

Rhiannon cackled with glee. "Hee hee! Has he seen the lingerie yet?"

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

He better bloody not have…or I'm in the deepest rose-bed of shit that humiliation can conjure.

"Just checking," she replied, obviously enjoying my predicament. "Now. Details. Give."

Oh bugger. "Well." I floundered for an explanation which would satisfy Rhiannon's curiosity without giving away anything I didn't want anyone to know…if you tell Rhiannon something, you're likely to have a lot of people know about it before the end of the day. Note her ability to keep secrets since our arrival in Middle Earth. Not too good, is it? And you're probably wondering I'm entrusting her as my confidant? The answer is- I really don't know. I suppose, for the more important parts (using her judgement, which is none too reliable), she can keep her mouth shut. If she believes something is important, she'll stick to her strict moral code. The problem is her choice of morals she believes in.

Fortunately, Glorfindel chose that moment to return. "Is all well, Ladies?"

"Of course," I answered. "Minaimîr and I were just chatting." I needn't tell you how glad I was to be out of the hotpot.

"I heard screams of pain," Glorfy said concerned. He glanced back and forth, trying to discern if we were telling the truth.

"Those were squeals of excitement," Rhiannon waved negligently. "Don't worry, Glorfy. I'm not getting too excited."

I wondered whether Glorfindel heard what I did in Rhiannon's remarks. I have to agree with my sister-spirit; innuendos are fun.

Glorfindel was having none of it. "Lady, I heard those 'squeals of excitement' from the other side of the camp." He crossed his arms, exuding an aura of authority. "If you cannot remain calm during your sister's visits, I will be forced to have the High King cause them to be ceased!"

Rhiannon beat me to answering heatedly, "You will do no such thing!"

Since when did anyone get away with purposefully separating me from my sister without a damned good reason! It wasn't as if we were lying, and so what if Rhiannon was actually happy for me!?

Rhiannon swayed and fell back onto the cushions. I moved to help her, but found myself pushed out of the way by Glorfy who tended to Rhiannon. I watched, still fuming, as he helped her lie down comfortably again.

"You must be careful, melyanna," he reprimanded. "It is bad enough that you disobey orders concerning your life. Do not carry this trend through to your health."

As far as I knew, the two were connected, and disregarding orders concerning our lives seems a lot more important than that of our health. Of course, Glorfindel wasn't talking about me, just Rhiannon. I couldn't help a small grin that grew on my face. Glorfindel cared so much for Rhiannon. It was hard to think that less than a week before she'd run her hand over his arse and he'd been disturbed by it. I noticed that Glorfindel returned the favour, running his hands over Minaimîr's arms and legs as he rearranged her and settled the covers gently.

He sighed exasperatedly and turned to me. "Is she always as such, Lady?"

"No," I grinned broadly. "Normally she's much worse."

Glorfindel seemed horrified for a second and then he too grinned resignedly.

"Get some rest, Minaimîr," I said, making my intention to leave clear. Glorfindel and Rhiannon were definitely in need of some alone time together. "I'll come visit again soon."

If Ereinion ever lets me out of his sight, I added to myself silently. I imagine he'd know about our true origins by now, and after the state I'd left him in the previous night, I doubted he'd be in the best of moods with me. With a last wave, I added, "Toodles."

"You do that," she answered, giving a little wave. I could tell she was thankful I'd seen the point to leave her with her Elf. "Tiddly Boogles, yo!"

I grinned and slipped outside.

Seeing the many Elves walking around in armour carrying messages or going to training reminded me that no matter how much I wanted to avoid Ereinion today, I had asked him for something to do and whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to face him to achieve the pointless task of mapping out the camps.

With a bit of questioning of the Elves around- the ones that could speak the Common Tongue anyhow- I found the main pavilion.

I hesitated to enter, noticing that there were even more guards watching over this tent than there had been of Ereinion's personal tent. An Elf and a Man stood either side of what was clearly the entrance. Should I explain my presence? Or just enter? I stood there for a moment, watching the two whom I would have to pass.

At that moment, Gildor exited the tent to find me standing there.

"Lady Anórmír," he inclined his head. "Lord Gil-galad has been awaiting you." He held back the curtain-type 'door' and I smiled politely as I entered.

Many faces turned to look at me. I recognised a few; Elrond, Isildur…and Ereinion.

"My Lady," Ereinion greeted, standing up from the map he'd been bent over. His mouth betrayed a small secretive grin, letting me know that he remembered the events of last night well. "Lord Glorfindel tells me you have a story that I would be most interested to hear. I should like it very much if you could write it down so that I may read it later when I have time." He gestured to the chair and small table where a parchment book and pen and ink lay that would serve as my desk whilst in Ereinion's presence.

"And what of the map that you set me to marking, my Lord?" I asked, feigning submission.

"Write your story first, Lady Anórmír." The look he gave me brooked no argument, but there was a sparkle in my eye that told me that he had had little rest during the night, but had much opportunity to think of what he was going to do to me the instant he got me alone.

Therefore, I tried unsuccessfully to hide my smug little grin as I took my place at the 'desk'. Thankfully, only Ereinion's attention was on my reaction to his order. The others in the pavilion were more interested in whatever they had been talking about before I had entered.

I spent much of that morning writing in the book. Thankfully when I was back home I'd taken an interest into written with old pens and ink bottles, so my writing was not _too_ messy or blotchy.

Something to note is that when I'm writing, I get so involved in it, all else fades from memory or view. My total focus is on writing, and whilst I have the flow of the story going, I cannot stop for anything. I do not see people pass me, do not smell the hot food they carry, I do not hear people call my name.

Thus it was a complete surprise to me when I heard a soft voice whispering so close I could feel the breath of my sensitive Elven ear, "Anórmír, you have done well this morning. Take rest and seek out something for your midday meal."

I shivered involuntarily, dropping the pen in the process. I spun around in the seat to face Ereinion, who still bent over where my shoulder had been just before. "Erei- My Lord, please do not do that," I reprimanded, more annoyed at myself for having concentrated so hard on my writing that I let him get the upper hand. "You startled me and I almost spilt ink over it all."

He chuckled deep within his chest. "My Lady was much absorbed in her writing that she has not noticed that she is the last to leave her work for food." He stood aside so I could see for myself. I looked around and saw that what he said was true. Only he and I remained in the pavilion.

Somewhat sheepish, I stood up and waited for him to pass me.

He stood there, smiling with that mischievous twinkle still in his eye. "Anórmír, in such situations, Ladies are always the first enter any room and the first to leave."

"But you're the High King," I countered, unable to stop the grin from spreading on my face. I was enjoying myself, so what? It had been some time since I had last had a decent argument over something as nonsensical as who should go first.

"That is no exception." Ereinion declared.

"No?" I gave him a feigned astounded look.

Ereinion pulled me against his chest, tilting his head as he said softly, "Are you afraid of something, Anórmír?"

"I hope my Lord will forgive me if I say I do not trust him to walk behind me," I retorted, my heart feeling as though it was going to burst out of my chest.

I know that sounds sappy, but that's the honesty of it. Now shut up and let me get to the good bits.

"And why is that?" he asked with a grin just before kissing me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, not realising that his hand slid down my back to run over my backside.

My eyes flew open and I jerked back with an exclamation of, "Ereinion!"

The High King of the Elves grinned at me boyishly. "Whatever is the matter, Anórmír?" he asked with feigned innocence, giving my rump a squeeze to show that he was teasing me.

Flustered and blushing, I replied hotly, "Hands off!"

His answer came in the reply of putting his other hand behind my head so I couldn't pull away as he kissed me again. My resolve weakened, I could only comply with his wishes.

Somebody coughed.

Ereinion and I split apart, startled.

"Elrond," Ereinion acknowledged.

Elrond raised both his eyebrows. "It was wondered what could be holding the High King of Lindon up from taking the midday meal in King Elendil's pavilion."

"I will be right there," Ereinion said with his authoritative 'business' voice. He inclined his head to acknowledge that he heard and that Elrond was dismissed.

"I believe I should stay with my Lord, so as to make sure his current 'interests' do not delay his presence at the luncheon."

Ereinion's sour look gave me the impression Elrond was going to cop it later. Most likely in the practice ring. He turned to look at me. "My Lady, I shall leave you to your own devices. Be sure to return here when you are done." Once again, he used his commanding tone that he always used when dealing with the war issues. I could tell he longed to be rid of this war and rid of the constant meetings and tactics discussions.

"Yes, my Lord," I replied in my obedient pretence that matched his serious demeanour.

Ereinion released me from his grasp and walked past me over to Elrond, muttering something in Elvish; Elrond just grinned and the two left the tent.

After finding lunch- sandwiches of cold meat leftover from the night before- I decided to skip food (I'm not overly fond of cold meat, so it was much to my advantage to just forget it) and headed over to Glorfindel's tent in the hopes that she was awake.

Visiting Rhiannon that day was perhaps the biggest mistake I had made yet. To be fair, it wasn't really her fault, but during my visit many events happened that I really wished I had not been a part of.


	15. Rhiannon Ravings

            When I awoke next, I found to my disappointment that Glorfy wasn't anywhere near by.  But, I figured that this might be a good thing, since I needed some time to write and think.  Especially think.  In fact, enough had happened yesterday that I had a feeling that I was going to be doing more thinking than writing.  

            I rose stiffly from my bed of cushions and stretched as much as my horribly stiff muscles would allow.  It hurt, but I managed.  My legs felt like jelly from staying in bed for so long, and, not only that, but despite expectations, they weren't hairy.  At all.  After a quick check, I realized that my armpits weren't either.  

            This provided a great deal of wonder for me, and a lot more food for thought, which I started in on first, finding the thoughts about Glorfindel to be serious enough that I was going to have to leave them until I was done with the frivolous.

Anyhoo…Yesterday when I'd had my bath I hadn't thought much of whether or not my legs were horribly hairy.  I was just happy to be able to soak in hot water for a time to get the dirt and stiffness out.  But now…does this mean that Elf-maidens' _aren't hairy_?  For _eternity_?  Sweet!  This is almost as good as the thought that menstruation only happens once every nineteen years!  Or maybe the hair does grow, only very slowly so instead of taking a day to grow, it takes a week, or even longer!  Still, that's a hell of a lot better than having five o'clock leg shadow to worry about, or whether or not your legs are silky smooth.  

Little details like these are something that I have to worry about, of course.  Especially now that I'm immortal.  I don't _want_ to have to shave every day for the rest of eternity, thank you very much.    

I wanted to do a little dance, but found I couldn't, so I just settled for a maniacal giggle.  Of course, this would cut my excuse for remaining in the bath down a lot, but there was nothing to be helped by that.  Now I only had to worry about washing my hair, which I have a lot of.  And which needed brushing.  

            I located a brush with ease – there was one sitting on Glorfy's desk.  Next to it were clean clothes that fit, as I was still wearing Glorfy's somewhat damp robe.  I shivered when I realized this, and quickly changed, finding with some satisfaction that my shiny, teal underwire bra was still alive and kicking, and not even stained.  

            Fiona came in as I was finishing up with changing, a slow process.  I still hadn't made it to my hair and it was tangled in odd clumps on the back of my neck, which felt cool against the bruising.  She was grinning from ear to ear, but to herself, quite obviously lost in thought since she gave a little start when she realized I wasn't sleeping still.

            I grinned at her and started in on my hair.  "What's up with you?" I asked.  She blushed and heaved a contented sigh that gradually faded into a giggle.

            "Oh, not much," she said, and twirled.  I raised an eyebrow.  "Just that I have the heart of an Elvish king."  She noticed my difficulty with the brush (bruises make for less freedom of movement) and took over, resisting the temptation to be gentle. 

            I giggled myself.  "Me too!  Only, mine's not a king."

            We shared a moment of combined squeals.  "Oooo!  Details!" she cried.  I think it was payback for my squealing of the day before.

            "Not before you tell me about you and Gilly-boy," I replied.  "You still owe me details from yesterday."  At least, I was hoping it was yesterday.  If I'd slept for several more days, I'd be worried.

            I knew her face had gone beet red.  I grinned at her discomfort.  After all…that's what sisters are for: teasing the living crap out of our siblings, even if we aren't actually physically related.  Adopted sisters are still sisters.

            "Well…" she began.  "After Elrond sewed me back up, and I punched his lights out, Ereinion yelled at me and all that, and I left and then he followed, and well…we argued and then…"  She trailed off her remarkably incoherent sentence.  

            "And then what?" I had to prompt her.

            "And then…well…we…" she giggled.  

            "He kissed you?"  I eventually supplied.  I turned to look at her.  When her answer was a huge grin and a giggle, I knew I had been right in my assessment.   "EEEEEEEE!  That's _wonderful!_"  I turned back around so she could finish my hair. 

            "What about you?"

            My giggle abruptly stopped.  "Ummmm…well, just after I got out of the bath – shut up! – he brought me a towel…I mean, he brought me the towel so I could get out of the bath, and then…"  I trailed off and tried very hard not to turn the alarming shade of red I knew I was going.  "Then…I'm going to _kill_ Elrond," I eventually managed.

            "Elrond interrupted?"  I nodded mutely.  "That bastard!"

            "It's not his fault," I said defensively, not quite knowing why I was defending him.  That had been a vicious prod to my back the other day.  Then again…I was still alive because of him…  "I don't think he realized what he'd find when he pulled back that tent flap."

            "Oh, he knew," Fiona said with feeling, leading me to believe that Elrond had pulled a similar stunt regarding her and Gilly.  I raised an eyebrow, but it was still my turn for details.

            "And then, well Elrond examined the bruise on my back, and then he left, and then I was talking to Glorfy for a little bit, and then he said something about having a cure for my aches that Elrond couldn't deliver and then the next thing I know, he's…" I trailed off my own remarkably incoherent ramblings and giggled.  Fiona squealed again, spun me around and gave me a hug, which hurt the bruise, but I didn't care.

            "Sorry," she said.  I said I didn't care about the pain, but I still flinched.  "I'm just so happy!"

            "Don't worry about it!  I'm happy too!"

"How 'bout some celebratory chocolate?"  

            I grinned, remembering suddenly that we actually had quite a lot of it.  I squealed (there was a lot of squealing…my fan-girl proclivities, which had largely been dormant since we'd last written fanfiction, were waking up), and thought vaguely that I really didn't need the sugar, but…hell…it'd been a while since we'd last sat and giggled over chocolate, and so much had happened.  Dying, being reborn, meeting damn bloody hot Elves, joining a battle, nearly dying again, blathering through the night…I think chocolate is a good thing for a celebratory moment.  I wonder if the Elves have anything like this…if they don't, they're going to have to learn how…damn…I wish we had a recipe.

            "Where's your bag?" Fiona asked.  

            I looked around the tent.  "Dunno," I replied.  "Should be around here somewhere."

            Fiona stuck her head through the partition and looked around.  "Not out here," she called back.  She pulled her head back through and spotted it under Glorfy's desk, dragging it out.  "Found it!" she exclaimed and passed it over.  I dug through its contents, looking for the chocolate.

            After a moment or two, I got fed up with the searching, carried the bag over to the bed/pile of cushions and dumped the whole thing out onto the ground.  

            Of course, the condoms had to land on the _top_ of the pile.  Just as Glorfy and Gilly decided that a visit would be a good thing.

            I don't think they ever got around to telling us why they had come, although I know Gil-galad has a purpose for everything he does, even if that purpose is not apparent to start with and he gets side tracked by the sort of occasion that is about to follow.  But they were unannounced and just waltzed right in, stopping just inside the inner partition.  I suppose this was Glorfy's tent, but, for all they knew, I could have been changing.  

Unless…no, Glorfy doesn't have _that_ much of a dirty mind.  Hell…he's convinced that women shouldn't know about any pleasurable bodily functions!  And the way he's always reacted to my…forward behavior…  I suppose it should be pointed out that if he does have a dirty mind he hides it extremely well under that gorgeous, gentlemanly and well-muscled exterior.  I suppose I have all the time in the universe to find out whether or not he does…I like that thought.

Fe and I must have given them the We're Not Doing Anything innocent look because Gilly and Glorfy immediately looked suspicious.  Well, it could have been the large pile of unidentified things lying in the middle of the tent.  

            "Greetings, Ladies.  May I ask what it is that you are doing?" Gilly asked.  Okay, so they _were_ suspicious of us.  I noticed Fiona was oogling the king again so I nudged her hard.  In an effort to keep from being slightly hypocritical, I looked back down at the pile of Twentieth Century goodies that had migrated across the ages with us.  The point of this was to keep my eyes off Glorfy – if I'd looked at him, I'd be lost…

            "Oh," I answered, looking back up at the bloody hot Elf king.  I can stand to look at him without going into girly fits, but Glorfy… "Not much.  We were just going to have some celebratory chocolate."  I shrugged.  "You two want any?"

            "What is 'chocolate'?" Glorfy asked.  I finally had to look at him.  "And why must it be 'celebratory'?"  

            I wasn't totally lost, but Fiona did have to answer.  

            "It's…a confectionary…rarity, my lords," she began, "made by…err…master craftsmen of our time."  I gave her a weird look, to which she shrugged.  "I don't know…_you_ try explaining to two Elves about corporate entities," she added in a mutter.

I shrugged myself and did my best to ignore the confused and penetrating stares of the two Elves.  I'd forgotten about their hearing.  I just hoped they didn't ask anything about 'corporate entities' because there wouldn't be a chance in hell that I'd be able to explain them.  So I didn't blame Fiona one bit for trying to fob off an explanation about craftsmen.  Besides…master craftsmen _had_ made this chocolate.  These were Belgian chocolate covered truffles.  Just one whiff sends me on an endorphin rush like no other.

I started digging through the pile in front of me, silly grin on my face, wondering just how Elves would react to such a sugar intake.  I pulled the box of addictive confectionary items from the mess of apparently useless stuff (I _still_ don't know what the hell that damn dog whistle is for!) but before I could open it, there was a rustle of cloth and the slight clinking of armor and then Glorfy was picking up…

The silly grin vanished.  Oh mother in heaven, help me!  He's got the condoms!  _Bloody HELL_!

"Minaimîr," he began.  I was dreading the question I knew to be coming next.  Already my face was going red.  The two Elves looked even more suspicious than before.  "What are these?"

I couldn't help it.  One look at Fe and we were both giggling again.  

"What is meant by 'maximum lubrication'?"

"I do not understand what it is you find so amusing," Gilly interjected when all Glorfy got for an answer was full out laughter.  Fiona and I were rolling on the ground.  We couldn't have responded if we'd wanted to.  

All of this was hurting my back quite the bit, but I ignored the pain.  I was laughing too hard, and knew that I was going to have to pay for this later, but…damn…you've got to admit that this _was_ very funny…and not really a sight that comes along very often, Glorfy standing there, holding a box of condoms, Gilly at his side and the pair of them looking so very confused…

Eventually, Fe managed to calm down enough to get some comprehensible words out.  "They're for protection, my Lord," she giggled.  She went even redder when she met Gilly's eye.  "During…umm…"

I did my best and tried.  "They go on your…" I didn't get any further as my started explanation only induced another round of sniggers and giggles.  

Aren't there instructions on the damn box?  Mother knows I've never seen any of the damn things up close…despite my forwardness when it comes to hot guys, I'd never had occasion to use them.  Besides…do Elves even _have_ the…umm…equipment…for…?  Well, I guess they did, because that would only make sense as to how Elrond and his descendants came about…   

"Ah," Gilly said after a moment.  "I do believe that I am beginning to understand.  These are devices to protect one's…" he trailed off and then raised his eyebrows.  I guess there are instructions on the back of the box.  He muttered something in Elvish.  

The look Glorfy gave me contained confusion, wonder, surprise, suspicion and…fear?  "Minaimîr, why do you have such items in your satchel?"

"It's a good question," I managed around the gasps of air I needed to breathe.  "Ask whoever brought us here."

"Maybe they can explain the dog whistle," Fiona added, clutching her belly.  "Or the pineapple."

"Or your odd undergarments, Anórmír," Gil-galad mused, half to himself.  I have a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't meant for that to be out loud.

The abrupt silence was…abrupt. I felt sure that either Fiona's jaw was about to fall off or the heat from her face would cause her to spontaneously combust into a pile of ashes.  Another bout of the giggles rapidly approached.

"Fe," I began, the giggles already starting.  She hadn't managed to say anything yet.  "I thought you said Gilly _hadn't_ seen the lingerie."  She didn't say anything; she looked like she wanted to die.

I couldn't contain the giggles any longer.  The look on Fiona's face was too priceless.

"What?" she managed after a moment, staring at the Elf of her affection with a great deal of shock.  

Glorfy stepped in, changing the subject.  "But what would these," he began, waving the box of condoms around, "have to protect against?"  He apparently didn't get it.  I think he was just trying very hard to believe that such things wouldn't be necessary in _my_ bag.  I suspect that, despite my behavior in the past, he still thought I was an innocent.  Well, technically, I was.  Although, my mum did teach me everything I needed to know about the birds and the bees at a young age…  "They are too small to shield from Orcs."

Elves are _so cute_ when naïve!  And so bloody friggin' hilarious…

When I could breathe again, I spoke.  "Um, they're not for protection against _Orcs_," I said, trying very, very hard to keep from giggling like a maniac again.  "They're for protection against unwanted children."

"And nasty diseases," Fiona put in, finally managing to speak again, and quite obviously happy to be on a separate subject than the underclothes she had in the bottom of her bag, even if this separate topic involved Elves and condoms.

Her statement was met by a pair of blank stares.  "Diseases?"  Gil-galad asked, deadpan.

"Yeah.  Nasty ones too," I added.  "Horrible, horrible things that you don't want to know about."  I shook my head.  "Trust me.  You really don't."

"What sort of a world do you come from?" Gilly had to wonder.  Well, I suppose he had to…I mean, I would, if I were him.

"One you won't need to worry about," I said dismissively.  "It's a long, long way off."

Glorfy gave the condoms a distrustful look and tossed them back to the pile of various things before me.  "I am glad that we do not need such devices."

I think the looks on Fe and mine's faces were identical.  I know our eyebrows shot up to our hairlines and threatened to set up camp and not come back down.  We didn't have to say anything.  Glorfindel continued, somewhat embarrassed.

"You do not know of how children are conceived?"

Blank stares – we're getting good at those.  "No," we said slowly.  Speaking in unison again…  

"You don't have any sexually transmitted diseases?"  I threw that out, as Fiona wouldn't have said anything along those lines for a million dollars, not with Gilly present.  Especially after that burn about the lingerie… It took a moment for me to realize what I'd just said.  "I mean you as an entire culture," I elaborated.

"Your pardon?"  Glorfy apparently had some trouble talking…at least, he sounded choked.  

I took a deep breath, tired of flittering about the edges of this topic (although, it was still damn funny) and dove in headfirst.  "A sexually transmitted disease is a disease of the genitals generally obtained by having copious amounts of unprotected sex with multiple partners, not necessarily at the same time.  Condoms, when used in that respect, are not only for the protection of the woman against conception of a child, but also to protect against the diseases which result of promiscuous activity.  

"However," I continued, my 'lecture mode' in full swing, "if both partners are relatively clean in their habits, bathe regularly and aren't slutty whores, then condoms are a guard against children that would complicate matters, especially between two consenting adults who are only having sex for fun, rather than as an emotional bond.  Birth control is a good thing," I added at the two shocked stares I was getting from the Elves, "not only to protect against over population, but also because there are a lot of people out there who wouldn't know how to raise a kid if someone smacked them with a 'how-to' manual and who would probably be better off not having children, if only to save that child from the emotional damages that could result from having a set of parents – or parent, if the dad decides to shove off – who are grossly incompetent when it comes to child rearing, because their own parents were, and their grandparents, and on and on and on down the ancestral line.  Not only that, but preventing a pregnancy beats the bloody hell out of having an abortion."

Well, if Glorfy had any remaining delusions of my being an innocent, they had just been dashed upon some very sharp rocks.

"Abortion?" the Elf of my affection asked weakly.  He couldn't manage much else.  I noticed that Gil-galad didn't even try.

Fiona will tell you that getting me started on abortions is not worth it.  The intensity of my feelings on that topic could probably keep Mount Doom in operation for several hundred years even if the magma chambers it happens to be sitting on were to crystallize suddenly without any warning at all and trap Sauron in a solid prison of rhyolite and obsidian.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep the anger out of my voice.  "Yeah.  Killing the child before it's born to keep from having to live with it.  It's illegal after the fetus reaches a certain age, but…"  I closed my eyes a moment and tried very, very hard to stop the rush of anger that threatened to break out.  "Sometimes – and I've seen pictures – sometimes…the methods…"  I felt a distinct need to shred something.  

"It's alright, Minaimîr," Glorfy said gently, the tone of his voice enough to drown the anger that was threatening to explode.  "I understand what you speak of."

"How can you?" I wanted to know.  "You've never seen…you know what?  How 'bout we change topics?"  I looked around and gathered that there was a consensus among the others.  "Right.  Now.  The chocolate.  Do you two want to try some?"

I lifted the box, forgotten in my hands, and opened it, took a whiff, and offered it to the two Elves while trying to keep the sudden and hugely silly grin off my face.  It'd been a while since I'd smelled chocolate like this.

            Gilly, of course, being Mr. Diplomat, bent over and inhaled deeply, as I had done, Glorfy following suit immediately thereafter.  I looked at Fiona, and we shared a grin before turning back to the two Elves.

            They looked panicky.  Very panicky.  So panicky, in fact, that it was almost amusing.  Almost, but not quite.

            Oh, hell.  It was friggin' amusing!  The pair of them tried so very hard to hide the fact that the chocolate was having something of an 'unforeseen reaction'.  They both babbled something about a 'cold cup of water' before turning stiffly and heading for the tent flaps.

            I raised an eyebrow and met Fe's look.  

            "What the hell was that?"  I had to ask.  

            "I don't know," Fiona replied, shaking her head.  "Somehow, I think we probably just witnessed the first and only time that Ereinion and Glorfindel are going to be 'unruffled' in our presence."

            "'Unruffled?'  More like 'snorting the powdered rhino horn'.  And it better not be the only time either."

            We giggled.  I noticed that she seemed to be able to talk now and figured that she'd gotten over the lingerie comment.  I shrugged and offered her the box of addictive confectionary items, also known as Belgian chocolate covered truffles.  I made a promise to myself that I was _definitely_ going to be hoarding these.    

              She took one and I followed suit.  "Cheers!" I said with a grin, inhaling deeply the toe-curling aroma of fine chocolate.  

            "To our Elves," Fiona added with a grin of her own.

            In unison, as we always seem to do, we popped the truffles into our mouths.  Mmmmm…orange cream…so wonderfully…oh bugger.

The grins vanished from our faces and we stared at each other in shock, and then at the tent flap, where just so recently the two Elves had practically ran through in an effort to cool their blood.  After a moment I swallowed, stood shakily, and spoke.

"Race you to the rain barrel."

In retrospect, I suppose we should have seen this coming.  I mean, more than just our ears changed when we became Elves – the metabolism that allows us to stay young and healthy, the loss of the gene that causes aging and so forth...all of our human physiology had gone bye-bye, and had been replaced with that of Elves.  Our physical _appearance_ didn't change (have I mentioned that being this farking short in a camp full of tall people is _very annoying_?), but…damn it, we should have expected this!  

Logical question, answer needing deductive reasoning skills: If two Elves, encountering the scent of chocolate for the first time, find it to have the same result as the apparent use of a rhino horn does for humans, would not two newly Elvish females, having grown up with chocolate, not notice the effect until _after _ingestion?  

Unfortunately, though, hindsight is a total bitch, and I was too busy running for the nearest barrel of cold water to care.  And having one of the hardest times of my life keeping away from anything remotely male.  In the state I was in…

I'll tell 'ya, though…Fe and I were practically neck and neck the whole time, our dual predicament throwing all considerations of height, weight or leg length out the proverbial window and just giving us speed.  Which we needed.  Because Glorfindel and Gil-galad (sopping wet themselves) were coming up rapidly on the right, and if we were to keep away from them – and keep from doing something horribly stupid – we'd need all the speed we could get.

I didn't really start thinking again until after I pulled my head out of the horse trough.  Then I had chance to realize a few things:  One, I was panting and rather heavily due to the physical exertion of beating total ass across camp.  Two, so was Fiona.  Three, I felt a great deal better, and four…both of us were wearing white.  

Well, it had been white, the fabric of our shirts.  Now it was just translucent.  

Oh bloody hell.     

            I looked at Fiona.  Fiona looked back.  I don't know who started giggling first, but it didn't take long before we were both clutching our stomachs again, laughing manically, howling, practically.  There the two of us were, our shirts drenched, hair plastered to our heads and dripping down our backs, having narrowly escaped a _very_ embarrassing situation…it was quite amusing.  There were amused grins on the faces of the Elves and Men who had gathered around to watch the spectacle.  Even on the faces of Glorfindel and Gil-galad…

            Our laughter dwindled away as we both laid eyes on the Elves of our affections.  Their own shirts clung to their bodies from their own escapades in the horse troughs, their hair slicked back and dripping…muscles…gleaming…so…beautiful… Gradually, the matched smiles on the faces of Gilly and Glorfy slipped.  Something was not quite right…because the cold water hadn't really helped after the initial shock of the temperature clearing our heads.  If anything…

            _Oh bloody friggin' hell!_

            We ended up in the tent that we'd been given.  It was the only place we could think of where we could go to panic without Glorfy or Gilly anywhere near by to…augment our…predicament.  

            Panicking involved a great deal of pacing and mutterings and taking turns at stopping one another from running out to find our Elves and then doing something entirely dumb.  

            "I can't take this any more!" I yelled, heading for the door after only ten minutes of pacing.

            "No!" Fiona grabbed hold and didn't let me go, despite my tugging.  "I'm _not_ letting you do this!"

            "But…I can't…want…"  I stopped tugging and we were silent for a while, except for the occasional mutter of something along the lines of 'bloody hell' or 'it was only one piece of chocolate!'

            "Don't even _mention_ chocolate!" Fe growled warningly at one point before the expression on her face flickered to a decidedly wicked grin.  "Even though…chocolate_ does_ have its advantages now that we're Elves."  Her eyes glazed over.  The only thing that stopped her from running off to Gil-galad was myself standing in her way.  I may be short, but it's been pointed out that I'm quite spunky.  Fiona could have easily bowled me over, but I would have gone down fighting and would have probably ended up being dragged along, hanging on with all available strength to her ankles.

            "We can't go on like this!" I wailed after Fiona had resumed her pacing.  "There _has _to be some way to control these…urges…"  I trailed off and gave Fiona a pleading look, as though she might have all the answers.  Actually, I think she was even worse off than I was.  All those impulses that she usually suppressed, all those thoughts that her modesty code had deemed 'inappropriate'…each and every single one of them was now coming to the surface of her mind.  She was quivering.  "Fiona!" her attention snapped back on me.  She'd been staring at the flaps again.   "We have to control this!"

            "Right.  I can do that."  She seemed determined, but I don't think it was to control anything except…well, I wasn't going to go there.  In fact…oh, bloody hell, now I've got _images_!

            Quick, Rhiannon, think of something _anything_ other than what your sister and Gil-galad might…gah!  No!  Not that!  Anything but that!  Think, damn you!  Of…Glorfy…running through fields…no!  _Not naked!_  The point, is, you stupid cow, to _calm down_!

            I put my head in my hands and tried to just clear my thoughts.  

            "Okay, quick," I began.  "We have to try meditation!"

            "What?" she gave me a weird look.  "What for?"

            "Because it's the only thing we haven't tried and I'm fresh out of options," I replied.  "And if you've got a better idea…"

            Her eyes glazed again and she looked at the tent flaps as though trying to plan her escape.  

            "_Besides_ that!" I snapped.  She blushed a deep red and sat down, head in her hands.  I sat down across from her.  

            "Okay.  Deep breaths now."

            It helped a little.  After an hour we could actually restrain ourselves without the help of one another.  About half an hour in I made an unfortunate attempt at a joke about tying us up…and then had to suffer the consequences when a barrage of images of Glorfy with ropes in his hands and wearing a grin on his face and nothing else decided to pop up in a most annoying fashion and there was nothing I could do about it except try to stop from blushing and running off to…

            We lost track of time.  Or, at least, I did.  I did notice that the torturously slow passage of time seemed to vanish and be replaced with…Elrond.

            What the hell is it about that friggin' Elf?  He has the most annoying habit of showing up at the most inopportune moments.  This moment wasn't _quite_ as inopportune as it could have been, say, twenty minutes before hand, but…

            I don't know.  Maybe he thought he'd be safe from the two severely horny she-Elves because our affections lay elsewhere.  That could be it.  I'm just glad he didn't show up earlier, or he would have been shown exactly how he _wasn't_ immune.

            Yes, I'd been that desperate.  Just you wait until you become an Elf yourself and then eat…the unmentionable food.  Then you'll understand how even Elrond would have seemed appealing.

            Now, that's not to say that Elrond isn't hot.  He is.  He's got those gray eyes and dark hair and the body, and the masculine confidence… It's just that he's also a bit of a jerk at times, and I was still annoyed with him for that interruption stunt he pulled yesterday.  Plus…I've got Glorfy, and Elrond will have Celebrían when this is all over…

            Anyway, I opened my eyes when I thought I heard the tent flap fluttering and found those gray eyes of his watching me curiously.  It took my remaining strength of will not to snap his head off.   Or jump him.  I was undecided on that point and could have cheerfully done either.  

A glance at Fiona showed me that she too was grinning in a very feral manner.  I wondered if this was because, like me, she was plotting his imminent death or because of another reason that I didn't really want to think about.

            "Hi," I said after a moment, doing my best to stay seated and ignore the twitchings of amusement at the corners of his mouth because…I'm not getting into that.  I'm just very, very, glad that Glorfy had elected to stay out of the tent.  "Can we help you?"

            "Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why the King and the Lord Glorfindel are in the state they are in," Elrond stated.  I don't think it was meant to be a question.  His eyebrow was raised.

            "Um, can't this wait?"  I knew if I started thinking about…the unmentionable food…then there'd be no turning back.  Even remembering the endorphin rush truffles give…and with a hot male in close proximity… 

            "No, I believe not," Elrond continued, apparently oblivious to the state that Fiona and I were in.  "You see, the High King and the Lord Glorfindel have both thrown themselves in their tents and have told the guards not to let them out, or anyone in, for any reason short of an Orc attack.  Seeing the state that you two are in, I assumed – correctly, I surmise – that you would know of the reason for their sudden state."

            I wasn't really listening to what he was saying, but rather watching the muscles in his neck and where they disappeared into his armor and tunic, which was slightly unbuttoned to reveal…

Dear mother…I'm drooling over Elrond.  This is bad!

"Rhiannon!" Fiona snapped.  My eyes came rapidly back into focus and I looked up at her guiltily and then suddenly grinned as an idea presented itself, one that I was feeling evil enough to follow through with.  I just hoped Fiona would join in.  My eyes flickered to Elrond and back to her and I raised my eyebrows slightly, hoping she'd take the hint and join in on my sudden plan to get this specimen of Elfhood _out_ of our tent before I – at least – did something highly regrettable.  

Elrond looked suddenly suspicious.  Especially when Fiona and I (she apparently caught my drift) rose from where we'd been sitting and attempting to meditate and advanced on him.  I let my grin widen as far as it would go and threw every ounce of feeling that I could into its wickedness.  If he didn't know what was going on now, then he must be very dense indeed.

"Elrond," I began, deliberately making my voice as low and seductive as it could go and still be heard.  He swallowed hastily and backed up slowly.  Unfortunately, it was to the wrong end of the tent.  "Aren't you over heating in that armor?"

"Yeah," Fiona chimed in, her own grin decidedly very evil.  Well, she'd say 'wicked', but…hee hee…either way, I was having a lot of fun with this.  "You're sweating, Elrond.  We'd better get you out of your clothes and into something a little more…" she paused and sent her eyes roving over his body, "comfortable."

"Something a little more flesh toned is what I had in mind," I added, sending one hand out for the armor buckles.  

So help me, he yelped!  This was working perfectly.  The only thing we had to really worry about was whether or not this little impromptu plan would backfire.

I will admit that a part of me wanted it to backfire, to a certain degree.  To deny that would be stupid, because everyone reading this will know full well what was going through my mind.  And, I will admit that if it'd been Glorfy who'd come to visit, bruise or no bruise on my back, that Elf wouldn't have had a chance of escaping my clutches.  But, I will also admit that I was quite glad when Elrond looked suddenly scared shitless and bolted for the other end of the tent, where the exit was conveniently located.  I noticed, as he ducked past, that Fiona had managed to get one of his braids undone while I'd been working on the buckles of his armor.  In fact, I'd actually managed to slip one hand under his breastplate before he bolted.

I will say this…Elrond has very nice pectoral muscles.  

Fiona and I chased him to the flaps of the tent and then collapsed laughing as we watched his retreating back tearing across the camp as though all the Orcs in Barad-dûr were after him.  Never would have thought that an Elf would actually run from the advances of two females, but…well, there's our proof.  Running across the camp at full speed.

When I managed to stand up again, I noticed that I'd laughed off the remaining affects of the…unmentionable food.  With a sigh, I pulled Fiona to her feet.

"Think we should go rescue our Elves from their tents?" Fiona asked.

"We probably should," I answered with a shrug and then winced.  My back was stiff as all hell now.  It was a wonder I could move at all.  "Although, given our reaction, I don't think going near Glorfy and Gilly would be a good idea." 

"Maybe.  Although," she grinned wickedly and I matched it, happy to see my twin admitting she had 'urges' for once.  "Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing."

I shook my head.  "Feel like some lunch?"

"Sure!  I had some, but it wasn't very nice, and I'm rather hungry now."

            With another giggle, we walked away in the general direction opposite to the one Elrond had gone tearing off into and hopefully in the direction of the dining tent.  I was hungry enough to eat just about anything.

            Alright.  Mind _out_ of the gutter! 

            "Well," I remarked as we stood in line to receive what looked like some sort of beef stew, probably some veggies and a bun.  I'm not entire sure what it was, but I was hungry and so didn't really care much.  "That was…an interesting experience."

            "Yeah," Fiona agreed.  A sour looking Man handed us our food and we went in search of a table where we could sit.  I found that I was having trouble using my muscles for anything and Fe took the bowl of stew from my hands.  

            "Thanks."

            "No problem.  You probably shouldn't be doing much with that bruise anyway."

            "Prolly," I agreed.  "But staying in that friggin' tent is boring as all hell.  Even though Elrond told me to keep up my end of the story for the histories."

            "Yeah; Erenion's got me writing out my end.  Although," she added, "that's pretty much what I did today right up until I came to visit you."

            "Glorfy wrote out my bit, at least until I woke up.  He wrote it out as I spoke."

            I caught the look in her eyes as she suddenly became highly interested in her stew.  "He did, did he?"

            Guilt fisted me in the stomach as I realized precisely what was bothering Fiona.  She explained it, as I expected her to, in no uncertain terms, as sisters should.   I'd betrayed her, you see, when I blathered through the night.  This was because of an apparent inability to keep a secret for more than ten minutes.  As a result, she didn't know whether or not she could trust me with anything important any more.  

Like her and Gilly?  If that were to be a secret, I'd keep it until the ends of time.  Or until something throws me off and I blurt it without thinking – that is what usually happens.  I waited until she finished chewing me out before speaking my bit.

            "You're right," I mumbled, staring down at my stew and stirring it slowly with the hunk of bread.  We hadn't been given spoons – not enough, I suppose.  "And there's really nothing that I can say or do to change what's happened.  I can't even say that I won't do it again because it's a habit that I can't seem to get out of."  It might have been the last few emotional hours, or the fact that I'd betrayed my sister's trust, but I felt tears pricking.  "The only thing I can say," I added, barely able to speak, "is that…"

            "Hey," she said, reaching across the table and putting her hand on mine.  I looked up and saw that she had tears in her eyes too.  They only made mine worse.  I was dangerously close to whimpering.  "It's alright."

            I sniffled, and swiped the one tear that did fall off my cheek.  We shared a slightly embarrassed silence.  The sudden image of Elrond tearing across the camp sprang to mind and I giggled.

            "What?" Fiona asked. I grinned.

            "Elrond."  It was the only explanation I needed.  She giggled herself.  

            We ate quickly after that, and with relish, although we kept interrupting ourselves with giggled words and wide gestures as we replayed Elrond's escape from our tent.  

            "I figure," I said after a while.  We had calmed down somewhat, "that we should be getting ready to go see if Gil-galad and Glorfindel had had any success with…soothing themselves."

The comment drew another round of sniggers from the both of us.

"You're probably right," Fiona said after a moment when she stopped giggling.  We were actually in the process of piling up our dishes when…

"Those Ladies are dangerous!"  The shout came from the other side of the pavilion and we turned to see who had uttered it.  As expected, it had been Elrond.  "Please, your Majesty, do not approach them without a guard."

            We saw the reason for the ruckus a moment later.  Gilly and Glorfy had entered the dining tent/pavilion/shelter and looked around, apparently looking for us.  While ordinarily this wouldn't be a bad thing, something about their body language bespoke of great annoyance.

            "Uh oh.  I think this is our cue," I whispered to Fiona.  She nodded and we stood slowly when Gilly's eyes were turned away and walked nonchalantly towards the other exit of the tent.  We were almost out when…

            "Minaimîr!  Anórmír! Stop!"

            The 'I-Am-King-So-Do-What-I-Say' voice was out in full swing.  Our feet stopped of their own accord, whereas I would have preferred to keep going.  Still though, I turned my sweetest smile on the two in the hopes that their wrath might be averted.

            Gil-galad approached us and I stepped forward, keeping Fiona behind me.  He regarded us coldly.  "Come with me."

            We had no choice but to follow.  If I'd put up a fuss, things would have gotten really, really bad, especially in front of everyone else in the dining area.  Mostly Men, they were staring outright.  Some were even grinning, and I wondered for a moment if Dúmassë or Lichmé had been spreading rumors.     

            I stuck close to Fiona as we were escorted to the main pavilion thingy.  She looked like she was about to pass out from fright.  I don't think she'd ever expected Gilly to behave towards her in this manner, and, truth be told, his behavior was even scaring _me._

            Entering the Command Pavilion, I promised myself that I was going to go down fighting.  

            "Why did you molest my Herald?"  I shared a look with Fiona.  We'd been in the command tent for only a few moments when Gil-galad turned this surprise on us, and my twin looked frightened.  I turned back to Gilly and found his stare hard and cold, without a speck of the gentleness that I had seen directed at Fiona before.  This was definitely a quick-frost glare.  But I can do better.

How dare he do this to my sister?  One minute he was kind and laughing, although weighed down by the cares of the entire Alliance, and the next…a total, cold hearted bastard.  I stepped forward to answer and threw every speck of contempt that I felt for him at that moment into my answer.

            "Molest?  Don't be a dumbass.  We didn't molest anyone.  If Elrond didn't want to be groped he should have not entered a tent that contained two highly –" I chose my next word carefully – "horny she-Elves."

             "Do not speak to the King in that manner!" Elrond growled.  I glared at him, but kept my mouth shut.  Such situations are to be handled with extreme care and dignity.  I was very, very glad that our small judgment party was the only current occupant of the Command Pavilion.  

            "What do you mean by 'horny'?" Gil-galad asked for clarification.  

            He received my best flat look and a slightly raised eyebrow.  "Guess," was my terse reply.  "I think you've lived long enough to know.  _Especially_ since _you_ weren't much better, last we saw you."

            I watched realization dawn and then continued my lecture.  _No one_ does this to my family.  I don't care if they happen to have a big hat.  "Listen, Gilly-boy, and listen well.  Stop acting like a jealous puppy whose mum's gone off with another dog.  Damn it, the number of times I had to restrain Fiona from coming to find you don't even bare counting!  And the number of times _she_ had to restrain _me_ from hunting down Glorfindel…!"  My eyes flickered to the blonde god of my existence.  His look of shock matched those on the faces of Elrond and Gil-galad.  Not that I blame him – how often does one witness a five-foot two Elf woman taking on the seven foot High King?  Not often, I'm betting.  Maybe it's because they all believe in his big hat.  

            "So," I noticed I was yelling, but didn't care, "shut up, get the pickle _out_ of your ass, and stop scaring the hell out of my sister!  One minute you're Mr. Kind and Considerate King, and the next, you're scaring the living shit out of her with your stupid 'I-Don't-Have-Any-Feelings-And-They-Molested-My-Herald' crap!  So quit it!  Not only that, but I don't care if you try me for treason, or some other such stupid thing, because, I'll have you know, if you execute me for protecting my own sister's feelings, you can be sure to all things holy and sacred that I will haunt you for the rest of your natural existence, and no amount of warding or calling on guardians would be able to stop me from making your eternity a living, breathing, in-your-face hell that you could not escape from if Manwë and all the other Valar came to your rescue with Eru behind them!"

            I took a deep breath and noticed that I was quivering, every muscle tense to the point where if someone moved I'd react before realizing it and likely hurt people, myself among them.  

            "Now," I continued, my voice much lower than it had been.  I didn't want to know what the crowd around the pavilion was going to be like.  "The reason, if you must know as to why we behaved the way we did towards your Herald, is because, if we hadn't and he'd stayed, then we wouldn't have been pretending any more.  Given the circumstances, I'd say we showed remarkable restraint.  You only _smelled_ the chocolate, Gilly.  We _ate_ it."  

In the shocked silence the followed I turned to Fiona and grabbed her arm.  "Come on, Fe," I said.  I threw my best quick-frosting glare over the three Elves who were watching with their mouths hanging open.  "Let's get the hell out of here."

            We started to walk away.  Fiona didn't protest in the slightest.  I don't think she could have if she'd wanted to.  Gilly's behaviour combined with my sudden tirade had blown her brainpower.  

I'm not going to apologize for my rant.  I don't like it when people threaten my sister with pointless jealous-rage induced trials for something that we didn't do under our own power.    

            "Oh, by the way," I snarled when we reached the end of the pavilion.  "I'll be in _my_ tent should you feel the need to come and cut my head off."

            If they had responded, I didn't hear it.  Fiona and I had already walked away.  


	16. Explanations and Issues Resolved

"Minaimîr! Anórmír! Stop!" 

I knew that voice. I knew who owned it. I knew that I could not disobey, no matter how much I wanted to. My feet refused to move any further, and thought I kept my gaze down, I knew that Rhiannon hadn't moved those last few steps to flee what we could both sense was coming. 

I glanced up, but upon seeing Gil-galad's icy glare look of cold fury, I looked down again quickly. It hurt to see him like that and know that for some reason or another, it was our fault that he looked upon us in that way. I'd never seen him angry like this, not this frosty manner in which he marched us back to the main pavilion. I realised that as we followed him I'd become withdrawn from it all, but that is how I react when I've disappointed someone I love and admire. I don't like to be on their bad side and I feel extremely guilty; even when I'm not sure what for. I don't speak unless I have a good argument to counter what trouble they believe I created. I noted vaguely that Rhiannon stuck close and to others her face might have been expressionless, to me it spoke of vast anger that would soon come forth if they weren't careful. 

Rhiannon has the temperament of a Jack Russell and the hackles of one too. If she gets angry, EVERY person in the nearest league will know about it. She can be really nasty when she wants to. Thankfully, that's a side I've never been on the wrong end off. Oh, we have our arguments, but nothing like THIS. Upon entering the tent, I dared once again to look and meet Gil-galad's gaze, hoping to find some of the gentle understanding or mischievous sparkle in his eyes that I had become accustomed to. It was all gone. 

"Why did you molest my Herald?" he demanded flatly. I stood in shock as Rhiannon stepped forward, putting herself between me and the Elf of my affection. 

"Molest? Don't be a dumbass." I listened as she let loose a tirade upon the High King that released her anger and her thoughts of him in no uncertain terms. I know I have often complained about Rhiannon's babblings and how she never shuts up...but this time, I was proud of her, and grateful. I'd never had a friend so loyal, to have ever stuck up for me when I'm in trouble. 

Alright, it sounds sappy and gross, but hey! It's a feeling that can't be described. One day, you might even feel it, and no matter how wrong your friend is, you're still glad that they stuck with you and told those buggers where to get off. 

The next thing I heard was "Come on, Fe. Let's get the hell out of here." Naturally, I followed my Elf-sister. I did not envy Gil-galad, Glorfindel or Elrond who had been at the wrong end of Rhiannon's loud outburst, and I most certainly didn't want to keep them company. When you're in trouble, you get the hell out of there as quickly as possible! Besides, I knew that once the adrenaline started to wear off on Rhiannon, she'd suddenly regret some of the things she said- or rather, just the way she said them. She and I have an overactive imagination sometimes, so I knew exactly what she was thinking. The walk to the tent was a quiet one. 

We didn't go to Glorfy's tent, nor Gil-galad's, but back to the one we shared as sisters. Both of us were consumed with our own thoughts until at last I broke the silence. 

"Thank you." Rhiannon turned to me, somewhat startled. 

"Pardon?" 

"Thank you," I repeated softly. "For standing up for me." Rhiannon had already gotten into hysterics. 

"Are you nuts?! I just bought us a ticket into the next Life!" I knew the source of her concern and guilt, and as she had done well for me, I was glad to be able to comfort her. 

"He's not going to execute us," I replied gently. 

"How do you know?" I could see she was still rather panicked about it and working up to the crescendo point of her self-criticism. I opened my mouth to answer 'I just do' but remembering Ereinion's fury, I closed my mouth again and said nothing. 

The truth was, I wasn't sure, but somehow it seemed beyond Ereinion's morals to kill us just for being rude. No matter how much he might despise us at any given time, we were not evil and he would deem that death was not right and proper. 

"I shoved his rule up his nose!" she wailed.   "I'd do it again in a second, but-" 

"Shush!" I remarked firmly. "He's not going to do it. And if he even attempts to do it, I'm going with you." 

"To the next life?" she sniffled, tears in her eyes. 

"I came with you here, didn't I?" Rhiannon couldn't get rid of me if she tried, and somehow I don't think she'd ever want to. Rhiannon sniffled once more and leapt to wrap her arms around me. Startled, I stood there for a moment before returning the biggest hug I could without hurting her back. I looked at her face to see she was crying, and realised that I was too. There was a kind of embarrassed silence (anybody back home would've believed we were lesbians, not the best of friends/adopted sisters that we were). 

"Maybe we should go apologise to Elrond," Rhiannon suggested, wiping her nose on the end of her sleeve. 

"Nah," I wrinkled my nose. "He'll be alright. Besides; as much as I would have rather he'd been Ereinion, that little escapade this morning was quite a lot of fun." Rhiannon giggled. 

"You mean the eating of truffles or the emotional scarring of Elrond?" I gave her a wicked grin. 

"Both." Rhiannon grinned too. 

"You know," she said feigning a casual conversational tone. "Elrond does have a nice set of muscles on him. You should have taken advantage when you had the chance." 

Reflecting back, I don't know why I said it, but I did. 

"Hell yeah. When we corner him again, I'm definitely copping a feel." The stunned look on Rhiannon's face was so funny that I burst into hysterical laughter as she gaped at me with eyes wide open. Eventually she realised I'd been joking, and joined in laughing. 

We were silent a moment before she said, "Fiona." 

"Yeah?" 

"What if he doesn't try to execute me at all, but rather sets me to digging out privies? Would you still come along?" I hesitated on my reply, not relishing the idea of digging out privies. Death I can handle, after all I've done it once before. But I HATE cleaning out toilets and digging out privies amounts to just that but worse. Still, I doubted Ereinion, however mad at me, would make us- well, me anyway- do that. I grinned. 

"Sure." Her lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes again. 

"Thank you," she sniffed, giving me another hug. I smiled, but my smile quickly faded as Gil-galad and Glorfindel entered the tent. I stood still as Rhiannon stepped forward, realising their presence. 

"What do you want?" she snapped. For someone who was just upset over losing her temper, Rhiannon doesn't learn fast. 

"To speak with Anórmír," Gil-galad said solemnly. "Alone," he added. 

"Not bloody likely," Rhiannon replied, crossing her arms and glaring up at him. 

"Lady, my patience is wearing thin," he warned, his tone hinting of his irritation with Rhiannon's defiant attitude. 

I put my hand on Rhiannon's shoulder, taking my chance to get Rhiannon out of the potentially bad situation she was heading for if she kept up like that. My mouth was dry, so I just gave her a slight nod in agreement when she looked around at me. I didn't relish talking to Gil-galad alone at that time, but it was better than Rhiannon digging herself into a hole she wouldn't be able to get out of. She strode over to the tent flaps. 

Just before leaving, she turned around and told him flatly, "If you hurt her, you can expect to be un-Elfed by sundown." 

I stood expressionless as my sister and Glorfindel left the tent, but inside I was cringing. Rhiannon can't stand for anyone else to have the last word.

At last, we were alone. Gil-galad stood there just as silently as I, trying to find the words he wanted to say, as though he'd practised it over and over again and only now abandoned his earlier plans. I hugged my arms to my chest, suddenly anxious of the silence. I didn't know what to say. 

"Anórmír," Gil-galad began, stepping forth with his hands out in an entreating gesture, but he stopped, losing the courage to speak his mind, and his hands dropped to his side. He took a deep breath. "Anórmír, I did not realize…I didn't know that you and your sister would be affected by that food – chocolate."  He started pacing up and down in front of me. "I was unaware that either yourself or Minaimîr had eaten some, and that the consequences would be no less worse than my own." 

"We didn't either," I put in, not giving away any emotions in my voice or on my face but that of factual indifference. "Rhiannon – that is, Minaimîr and I had smelt the chocolate and did not realise that there was any effect on ourselves. We were unsuspecting of the results that eating it would occur. Maybe it's because we grew up eating it, or maybe it's just different for she-Elves." Gil-galad stopped his pacing and nodded, but kept his hands clasped behind his back. 

"Yes." He agreed, nodding his head; but to what, I wasn't sure. "I have to admit, now that Minaimîr has revealed your, ah, dilemma, I understand now why you and she acted as you did towards Elrond." He sighed and turned away from me, so I could not read the emotions fluttering across his beautiful face. "Upon feeling the…effects…of smelling the chocolate, I knew that I would have to keep myself away from you...and clearly you both had done the best you could to combat those...feelings...also. Will you agree that Elrond was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" He glanced back at me. I couldn't help smiling. He put that very diplomatically. Definitely not how Rhiannon or I would put it. 

We'd probably have said 'Elrond stuck his Elven nose where it wasn't bloody wanted'. Instead I replied with some humour to my voice, "I would, my Lord. He did it in good cause though – he sought an answer to your and Glorfindel's predicament, and rightly he surmised that we would know. But unfortunately, we could not give him a straight answer of words." I hesitantly stepped forward, reaching out a hand to Gil-galad's shoulder, I smiled timidly. "I do not know what Elrond has told you, but regardless of our actions, we only wished for him to leave before something serious really did happen. To be fair, we did try to warn him before our chocolate-fuddled minds kind of took over. If I'd been in the right frame of mind, I would not have acted in such a manner; but then, if I'd been thinking correctly, I probably could've answered him and sent him on his merry way." 

Gil-galad couldn't help breaking out into a smile. "I have to admit, after the trouble of keeping myself away from you, I was really disappointed to hear that you'd taken the effects of the chocolate out on Elrond." I furrowed my brow but kept my dreamy smile. 

"What exactly did your Herald tell you?" 

"Elrond barged into my tent, appearing somewhat dishevelled, hysterical and outraged, to inform me that you and Minaimîr had molested him." Gil- galad recalled thoughtfully. I burst into giggles. 

"I undid his braid! That was it!" I covered my mouth with my hands, unsuccessfully trying to stop my outburst of mirth. "My Lord, I promise you-" Ereinion was grinning now too as he took me face in his hands and kissed me soundly on the lips. 

"I believe you," he replied earnestly. 

"If there should ever be another occasion, I promise to 'take the effects of the chocolate out on' you." I said, trying to be solemn, failing miserably behind the grin I couldn't hide. Ereinion smiled and put his forehead to mine, looking down into my eyes as I tilted my head upwards. 

"I should have trusted you, that you would not act in such a manner of your own free will. Especially not after what you did to me last night." I grinned. 

"However did you manage to escape?" 

"Well, I had the whole night to work on the knots. I have to commend you on your handiwork. It was dawn by the time I got my hands free. Barely in time before Elrond and Círdan came into my tent. Elrond was slightly suspicious as to why I hadn't finished the responding report; he mentioned it as well wondering aloud if you had anything to do with it. Obviously my calm answer wasn't convincing enough. I was quite annoyed when he interrupted us at midday." 

"They might not have sighted you for the rest of the afternoon if he hadn't insisted on making sure you went with him," I replied mockingly. 

"You think that?" Ereinion feigned innocence. "I didn't know what to expect." Ereinion pulled me closer and patted my bottom familiarly. "As much as I would like to take advantage of this moment, I suppose we better get back. I'm sure my presence is already missed, and I most certainly want you getting back to your story. I'm intrigued to read the next part." I blushed. I'm quite protective of my writing around people I know. I felt a bit embarrassed that Ereinion had been given such an insight as to my personality through my writing. 

As we stepped outside the tent, I realised that Rhiannon was nowhere in sight. It was unlike her to be far from where there was potential trouble. With a sinking feeling, I realised that Glorfindel wasn't nearby either. 

"Where's Rhiannon?" I asked the High King of the Elves, hoping he would know. Ereinion shook his head. 

"I do not know. Glorfindel had intended to wait outside with her. I do not know of his intentions other wise." 

"Is it likely that they'd be in his tent?" 

"It's possible," Ereinion conceded. "You may look in on your sister, though be careful. We do not know what state the two may be in." He kissed my forehead. "I shall meet you in the main pavilion once you are sure she is alright." He strode off, his step much lighter and merrier than before. 

I grinned triumphantly as I set off towards Glorfindel's tent; Ereinion Gil-galad's confessed jealously had proven to me how much he loved me. Admittedly there's a downside to such over-protectiveness, in which something innocent might be taken the wrong way, but I would never repeat 'the accidents' and I certainly wouldn't do anything to give cause for him to be jealous again. I understood why he had been so angry though; I feel much the same way about Ereinion as he does me. If you love someone, you should be utterly devoted to them. I revelled in this discovery. 

Ereinion would do anything to make sure that I would be his, and his alone.


	17. Close Encounters of the Glorfy Kind

A/N:  Okay, Cassie-bear01, this one's for you! :) 

We sorry…we prolly should have said this before, but, just to clarify:  I, Lai, write Rhiannon's POV, while Lór writes Fiona's.  It does get a little confusing, but if you're still confused after making it this far, I should point out that Rhiannon's POV are the odd numbered chapters (1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, and now 17), while Fiona's POV are all the even numbered chapters (2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16 etc).  And well, if you still haven't managed to tell them apart…mine generally include a great deal of babble and Glorfy drooling. :)  Hee hee!

To everyone else who's ever reviewed this little thought experiment…THANK YOU AND MANY HUGS!!!  You all get a cookie.    

_And now, back to our story.  We last left one of our heroines – Rhiannon – wallowing in her own chaotic, insecure delusions…_

            I don't know what I expected Gil-galad to do after my tirade.  I know that what I did have in mind had nothing to do with him admitting to me that he had been wrong in pulling that stupid stunt on Fiona, and had more to do with images of me being tried for treason and likely having my head cut off.  

It would make sense – I defied the High King of my new race, and did it with as much of a 'potty mouth' as I dared.  I don't think calling him a 'dumbass' to his face had been prudent, nor threatening him with eternal hauntings if he didn't smarten up, but like I said, I'm not going to apologize for that, to anyone.  I protected my sister and I would do it again in an instant if I ever need to.  Even if in the aftermath of my anger I get smacked with guilt and fear.

The guilt had been because I'd lost my temper, which I'll explain in a moment.  The fear had been because of the thoughts of treason, but also because I had been afraid that, after my stint at going spare, Glorfy wasn't going to even look at me, let alone speak to me or kiss me again…  

I have an inkling of how fiercely loyal the Elves were – are – to Gil-galad, minus those from Mirkwood.  Sorry, Greenwood the Great, as it's known at the moment.  Whatever the damn place is called, I haven't met any of the _Laiquendi_ yet, but I do know that they were too farking stubborn, wouldn't accept the rule of Gil-galad and ended up loosing two thirds of their people in the Marshes.  

Glorfindel, I know, prizes his loyalty to his king highly.  I won't go so far as to say _how_ high, but…it's pretty up there in his value system.  Perhaps because he'd never experienced democracy as I know it, but…then again, I'd never experienced a monarchy, except the Queen of England visited my hometown once, and I thought that was pretty damn cool.  So would Glorfindel stand with me or with his king?  Well, seeing as how I'd only known him for a week or more (I've lost track of time since we got here…), and he's known his king for…a really damn farking long time, then I suspect he'll side with Gil-galad.  Loyalty to the big hat will win out.  I'm not sure why.  Men seem to value big hats a great deal, whereas I…  

As Fe's more than likely pointed out, I don't react well to people ordering me around.  It's the one reason I stayed away from anything remotely militaristic, even a large portion of the reason that I stopped going to Karate.  Discipline and stratified organization are necessary in a large body of people, but it drives me up the wall.  So I got out of it.  

This is all well and good until I encounter someone like Gil-galad.  He's the farking _High King!_  And you've seen how I react to being ordered (unless by Glorfy, but that's only if he looks me in the eyes with those wonderful blue beauties of his)…  I don't even treat Gilly's authority with respect, perhaps because I know full well that _I_ didn't vote for him.  Enter the Monty Python sketch – only, I'm not digging filth.

Or am I?  Odds are, if I'm not executed by sundown, digging filth is exactly what I'll be doing.  Only, it'll be mucking horse stalls or turning the privies, which is a job they give to the lowliest of lows.  Would I deserve it?  Yes.

Now, don't look like that.  I stood up for my sister, yes.  I protected her emotions and her heart from someone who was on a jealous rampage over an incident that meant nothing except that we are going to stay away from chocolate for a good long while.  But I had also defied the authority of the only body of government that I would be encountering for some time.  Who am I to say that my version of democracy be imposed on a monarchy that had worked for several thousand years?  When Gilly gives out his punishment, I'll accept it with chin up and back straight, even if I'm trembling because it hurts.  I may be stubborn as all hell but, in the horribly paraphrased words of a character in a Robert A. Heinlein novel, 'I'll take my lumps'.

I know full well that it's a futile gesture to tell you to read _Starship Troopers_ by the author mentioned above, but I'm going to suggest it anyway.  I wish to all things sacred that who/whatever brought us here had granted us books, but…memory will have to serve.  Still though – if this history makes it to what we consider 'modern times'…  

Never mind.  That's wishful thinking, at best.  I don't know how they make this paper, or from what.  The same goes for the ink.  But, if I know the Elves (and I'm starting to), then they made this book to last, at least until several copies are made of it.  So…you never know.        

Now to explain the guilt I mentioned before.  I had been in serious danger of succumbing to a huge bout of depression, which always happens after I get very, very pissed off and express it.  I've always been brought up to believe that resorting to temper tantrums is a last resort, only after making the attempt to talk it out fails.  

But I stubbornly refused to let go of my anger at Gilly's jealousy (which is what that whole debacle was about.  If you don't believe me, look it up.  Just because _you_ don't think that Elf King's get jealous does not make it true).  That Elf holds my sister's heart between his fine-boned hands and I will be damned if he is going to crush it because of pettiness.  Elves are rumored to be beyond pettiness, but I have my doubts.  Does the name 'Fëanor' mean anything to anyone?

            Fiona didn't speak the whole way back to our small tent, and neither did I; my mind boiled with thoughts and fears.  I don't know what she thought about my reaction to Gil-galad's little inquisition – for once our mind link was inactive.  Shock, I think.

I quivered still, but for a different reason – the adrenaline that had flooded my system a moment ago had buggered off, and I was left with the aftermath of the rush.  

            It was a long, long walk back to our tent.

            "Thank you."  Fe's first words startled me.  They had been uttered at our first steps within the tent.  

            "Pardon?"  

            "Thank you.  For standing up for me," she elaborated.  

            "Are you nuts? I think I just bought my ticket to the next life!"

            "He's not going to execute you," she said gently.  She knows me too well.  

            "How do you know?" I asked shrilly.  Some of the panic I didn't know I had been feeling was starting to emerge.  I _really_ don't want to die; I didn't before (fat lot of good _that_ did), and I don't now.  My earlier conviction that I would take my punishment with head up and back stiff was starting to waver under the even stronger conviction that, now that I have eternity, I'm going to use it.  "I threw his rule in his face!  I'd do it again in a second, but – "

            "Hush," she said sharply.  "He won't do it.  If he tries, I'm going with you."  That shut me up right quick.  

            "To the next life?"  Tears were pricking again, but I had to be sure that I'd heard what I thought I'd heard.  Damn it, I'm such a sap!

            "I came with you here, didn't I?"

            This time I did whimper.  It ended on a rather high note that hurt my new ears.  Next thing Fiona knew, she was wrapped in the biggest hug I could possibly give with my bruised back.  She returned it, but gingerly to make sure she didn't hurt me too much.  She would really do that, throw this life to the wind and opt for oblivion, leave Gilly behind for whatever comes next…all because we are sisters…  I have never felt so humble, or so very, very lucky to have her with me in this incarnation.  

            We found ourselves sharing tears and another embarrassed silence in which we sniffled and tried to stop crying again.  After a while I spoke again, around the sniffles.

            "We should probably go find Elrond and apologize to him for scarring him for life."

            "Nah," Fiona said dismissively.  "He'll be alright.  Besides; as much as I would have rather he'd been Ereinion, that little escapade this morning was quite a lot of fun."

            I giggled.  "You mean the eating of truffles or the emotional scarring of Elrond?"

            Her grin was wicked enough that it approached 'evil' closely.  "Both."

            I matched it.  "You know, Elrond _does_ have a nice set of muscles on him.  You should have taken advantage when you had the chance."

            Maybe it was the residual traces of the chocolate, or maybe Fiona had finally – as I'd long since hoped – ditched her taboos and decided to have some fun.  Or maybe it was just the memory of Elrond's face when he'd sped out of our tent at escape velocity.  Either way, I got the surprise of my life when Fe giggled and tapped her chin thoughtfully.  

            "Hell yeah.  When we corner him again, I'm _definitely_ copping a feel."  She laughed at my expression and I tried to keep my jaw from hanging off.  It was then I realized that she had been sarcastic.  I raised an eyebrow.  

            A thought occurred to me and I looked at her sideways.  "Fiona?" I asked.

            "Yeah?"

            "What if he doesn't try to execute me at all, but rather sets me to digging out privies.  Would you _still_ come along?"

            She froze, likely panicking, as she tried to think of an answer.  Finally she grinned.  "Of course."

            More tears!  Fark!  "Thank you," I whispered past the lump in my throat.  

            That was how Gil-galad and Glorfindel found us.

            I greeted them coldly.  I was still angry with them, I realized, although intent upon keeping my life intact, and now, especially, Fiona's life since she'd said she'd come with me to whatever was next.  

            "What do you want?"  I made it clear that he was stepping into my territory.  Gil-galad may be the High King, but, damn it, this is the equivalent to my room and my house rolled into one.  If he didn't like it, he could add to whatever punishment he had in mind.

            "To speak to Anórmír.  Alone," he replied in his 'Obey-Me-Now' voice.  I didn't budge.  

            "Not bloody likely," I replied.  So much for staying alive!  I knew I was likely signing my death warrant with that, but I wasn't having any more of his emotional attacks on Fiona.  Still, though, he hadn't given me a direct order yet, so I still had a chance.

            "Lady, my patience is wearing thin," he said warningly.  I looked to Fe at her hand on my shoulder and she nodded, telling me it was all right – she would talk to him.  Only then did I move out of his way.  He watched me as I moved to the tent flaps, which Glorfy held open for me.  

            I stopped before stepping through.  "If you hurt her," I said quietly, knowing that I should just keep my mouth shut, but was strangely unable to.  I did not look at him, but I knew he heard me.   "You can expect to be un-Elfed by sundown."

            I didn't stay for his reaction. 

            I didn't move far from the tent either, even though I would have loved to just take off and run, far, far away – away from the battle, away from Gil-galad, and, yes, even away from Glorfy.  But I didn't, because moving away would have meant leaving Fiona by herself with no source of backup if things were to turn ugly.

Then again…did I really want to be around if he was in there to apologize?  Apologies of this nature usually ended with…

I shook my head, refusing to think of that.  The movement caused me to gasp suddenly – I'd forgotten about my shoulders again.  You'd think with bruising like that I'd be hard pressed to forget that simple movement hurts like total Orc ass, but…well, I can forget about anything if my mind's occupied.  

"Are you well, Minaimîr?"  Glorfy had followed me out of the tent and now watched me pace back and forth, an unreadable look upon his features.  That expression now changed to one of sorrowed gentleness.

"No, I'm not bloody well," I answered testily.  "King-boy in there scared the shit out of my sister.  I don't like it when people do that."  _Calm down, Rhiannon…there's no more need for anger_.  I knew my inner monologue was right, but…damn it, I was still pissed.

"That is self evident," Glorfy replied ruefully, wincing.  "I do not ever wish to again be on the receiving end of one of your lectures."

"Don't mess with my sister," I replied, "and you'll be fine."

"I do not wish to mess with your sister," Glorfindel replied, shaking his head.  He stepped forward from the edge of the tent.  "But I do not understand why you reacted so strongly to the High King."

I didn't make a reply.  He knew how I felt about people messing with Fe.  Plus, anything that I could have said would have involved democracies and way too many explanations.  I know he's going to read this little journal at some point (if he hasn't already.  There have been several times when it's been out of my sight), so I'm not going to explain all of this again.  He can work it out for himself.

I resumed my pacing.  After a great deal of thought, I turned back to Glorfy.  

"What is he going to do?"

"Your pardon, Lady?"  He asks for my pardon…how ironic, on so many levels.  

"His Royal Superiority Complex.  What is he going to do to us?"

"For that you will have to ask him."  Glorfy was avoiding the subject.  I just knew it.

"Come on, Glorfy!" I snapped.  "Just tell me whether or not he's going to have us cleaning privies or searching the next life for some vacancies!"  I was not in a good mood, as one can probably guess without any prompting.  

He regarded me a moment before answering.  "I do not know, Minaimîr.  I wish that I did, but I do not."

I sighed, not liking this.  I don't like being angry and snapping at people.  I don't like having to chew out the High King of an entire race of people over something as petty as jealousy.  And I don't like Glorfy watching me as I crumble.

Which is what I did.  Without Fiona there to calm me down from my self-destructive thoughts, I was headed for super depression and fast.  The adrenaline that had come rushing back with Gilly's appearance was starting to leave my system.  Tears forced their way up and all my attempts to hold them back were for naught.  

There was no one else in the area, no other soldiers, nor messengers running back and forth.  I didn't speculate on reasons why at the time, as I was in no state to, but I knew that I was glad for their absence.  

If there'd been anyone there besides Glorfy they would have gotten quite the pathetic spectacle, because I couldn't hold back the tears any more – the tears of shame from being unable to refrain from letting out my temper, from snarling at the Elves who had done so much for us, since we'd appeared in their world, lost and confused and behaving like total idiots.  

I sank to my knees, the first large torrent of self-pity releasing itself, as it probably should have done some time before.  Not only was I about to die for sticking up for my sister but…my mother and father…my entire birth family…were lost to me now, forever and always.  I would never see them again, likely never see Fiona again, as there was no telling that what or whoever had brought us here would let us stay together again after we moved on.  On top of this, I couldn't stop from crying like a baby in the middle of a war camp.  I felt small, lost, alone, so utterly insignificant…

And then he was there, holding me, shushing me softly as he stroked my hair.  I held to Glorfindel with all the strength left in me and cried my eyes out on his shoulder.  After a while, I felt myself being lifted and didn't have the mind to protest as he carried me away; I just clung to him.  As the tears stopped, it was all I could do to stay awake.  Crying has always left me sleepy.  

I hardly noticed when he pried me off, set me down and started giving me another of the best back rubs known to all life on the planet.  I hardly noticed that I had done a face plant on his desk.  Hell, I hardly noticed that he had his hands up my shirt, which just goes to show you how out of it I had been.  

What I did notice, however, was that I no longer felt quite so alone.   

I jerked awake out of a nightmare in which Fe and I had been beheaded and then were separated for eternity.  When I could breathe again, I looked around and discovered that I was back in Glorfindel's tent.  The Golden Haired Elf was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean he wasn't on the other side of the partition.  I don't know why I was weary to be spotted by him, but I was and so trusted that instinct.  Thinking back on it now, it makes no sense, but…that's life for you.

Peeking out from behind the partition, I determined that he wasn't there and then stepped out.  Moving quickly to the outer flap, I had been about to slip through when something caught my eye.  

On a table, just on the other side of the tent was a small cloth bag.  I'd seen this bag before, usually out of the corner of my eye and had never really looked at it until now because it had always been just part of the scenery.  I remembered now seeing a corner of it stick out of his armor the day of the battle as I'd closely learned the place of the buckles.  Yet it wasn't the fact that the bag was there that snagged my look, but more of what was sticking out of it.  

Protruding out of the silken bag, I found as I slipped closer, was a small braid of my very own hair.  

I didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened.  Flattered because he kept a part of me close to him, frightened because he hadn't told me about it, apparently had never planned to, and hadn't even told me he'd snarked some of my hair.  I felt somewhat violated, but strove to quell the feeling.  I had to find Fiona still, make sure she was alright, emotionally as well as physically.

But should I question Glorfy about having an unasked for lock of my hair among his possessions?  I think I might have to play that one by ear.  I know I could condemn him for being so crazy obsessed that he snarked a lock of my hair before the battle, but…damn it, _you've_ seen how I've been acting ever since I saw him for the first time!  'Obsessed' doesn't cover it.

So, no, I'm not going to question him on it.  If he someday decides to tell me then I shall act surprised until he tells me that he knew that I knew because he read this little bit of my little history journal thing.  Whatever.  I'm still keeping my mouth shut on this one.  Hopefully.  

Backing away from the table slowly, I continued on through the outer flaps.

The sun had nearly set, I found.  Fires sprang up around the camp and the tantalizing aromas of the nameless stew reached me and reminded me that I hadn't eaten since lunchtime.  But first things first – I had to find Fiona.

There had been no guard on Glorfindel's tent, which led me to believe that either I wasn't in trouble (here's hoping!) or that Glorfindel hadn't told anyone where I had been.  My emotional break down could possibly be the cause for option two…maybe he hadn't wanted anyone to disturb me?  I don't know.  I wish I could say for sure, but I can't.  But I blessed my stroke of luck and moved out into the rows of tents, marveling at the colour of the sky above as the sunset.  It was quite beautiful, the type of sunset that I'd never seen, being a city dweller for most of my life.  Stars sprinkled the horizons, shining clearly through the approaching night.  It had been mid afternoon when Gilly had come storming into the pavilion…I must have slept for a few hours, at least.  

I took a deep breath of untainted air (well, if you discount the smell of too many humans living together and the privies, but the privies are downwind, thankfully) and sighed.  The only thing that would make this night better would be the absence of the massive Morannon and the surrounding dark mountains to the East, and the sudden presence of the sea.  And, of course, if I knew what Gilly was going to do to Fiona and I.  Well, really to me.  I couldn't see him doing anything to Fiona.  Provided he'd gotten over his jealousies, that is.  I wouldn't want a spiteful Elf in charge of everyone and everything, but…I wouldn't want me in charge of an army this big either, since I'm not the best judge of such things.

The sun sank as I wondered around camp.  I was mostly lost in thought, of one thing or another – not about what I thought of earlier…I put that from my mind, for the time being – but I nodded to those I passed, or smiled a little at them (depended on whether or not they were hot…not too many Men were – I can't _stand_ beards!).  One or two called compliments and whistled at me as I passed their cooking fires, which I usually returned with a wave.  Most of these men could die tomorrow…what was the harm in returning their fun?

But as the sun sank people saw me less and less, and I melded into shadows.  I became more and more lost in thought, until I heard laughter coming from the direction of the main dining tent, and recognized Fiona's laugh among those present.  It was hard not to.  First of all, she has a very distinctive laugh, and second of all, I'm pretty sure that we two are the only females in this camp.  I could be wrong, so don't quote me on that, but I'm relatively sure that there aren't any others.  Males get rather protective of their women in war times.  It's really a wonder that Fiona and I are still in the camp.  Especially after that stunt we pulled with the battle and running off to fight when we were expressly told not to.  Had I been in charge, I would have expressly told us to get our asses out of the camp, but, apparently, Gilly has other plans.  Provided we're not off to the next incarnation.  If there even _is_ a next incarnation.  Of course, my hypothesis is based on the assumption that I can even die again, but I'm not going to get into that now. 

Walking as silently as I could, I stopped in the shadows to see what everyone was up to, primarily because I really didn't feel like socializing at the moment.  I just wanted to know if Fiona was all right.

In a corner of the dining pavilion sat Gilly, Glorfy, Fe, and Gildor.  After I listened for a moment I realized that Fiona was replaying Elrond's escape from our tent earlier this morning to her captive audience.  This struck me as odd, because Fiona normally can't stand being at the center of attention (especially with such a subject as she was talking about).  But there she was, gesturing away, copying faces and trying to talk around giggles.

I noticed that Gilly had his arm around her waist possessively and for a moment I was mad, but told myself to stop being such a dumbass and lighten up.  They had obviously talked things over, and she had obviously accepted his apology, or she wouldn't be sitting there.  Gildor had his back to me, but his shoulders shook with laughter as Fiona's story came to an end.  

"And then," Fe said loudly, pausing for a moment to breathe before continuing, "just as Rhiannon – Minaimîr – got her hand up his armor, Elrond lets out this yelp and bolts like a scared rabbit!"

The group collapsed into helpless giggles and I wondered what Elrond would be thinking if he could hear them now.  For their sake, I hoped he could take a good joke.  I wonder if Gildor knew exactly what had made us act like that…if he did, I was going to have to hide my chocolate stash from now on.  

I watched and listened for a moment.  Gilly's laugh was rich and deep, Gildor's a good tenor – clear as a bell.  Fiona, of course, has her trademark giggle, but Glorfy…everything about him is golden, his laugh, his face when lit up by the lanterns on the table they sat about.  His hair shines like liquid gold, and the smile playing about his features…  I had never seen an Elf look more gorgeous by lantern-light.  I sighed, wishing I could run my hands over his beautiful jaw...

Glorfy stopped laughing abruptly and looked up, directly at me.  This startled the crap out of me, so I did the only sensible thing (I thought) I could do and ran, further back into shadows.  Talk about bolting like a scared rabbit!

When I finally managed to make myself stop (there's nothing like a good run through the night, with your hair blowing out behind you…), I continued walking to try and calm myself down.  

For the life of me, I could not figure out why I'd run.  It made no sense.  Yeah, Glorfy had noticed me, but it would have made more sense if I'd come forward and revealed my presence to all of them, rather than running like a spooked deer.  Yet run I did, and now I didn't know where I was because it was dark and I had run blindly.

I shook my head and laughed low to myself and then stopped, looking back the way that I had come.  I should go back and talk to them, join the circle, laugh and be merry…I shook my head.  Nah, I decided, they were having enough fun, and I'm no good a socializing.  Plus, I wasn't sure where I was, as I said already.  I knew I was still in the camp, but…the nearest campfire was some distance away.  

I didn't see the hand reach out and grab me from between two tents, but before I could scream, another had covered my mouth as I was dragged into deeper shadows.  Eyes wide, I struggled like mad, trying to see my captor's face in the dark, but the shadows prevented even my new Elvish eyes from spotting who it was.  But, a moment later, I had my answer.

"If you don't stop struggling, _melyanna_, we're going to be interrupted again."  The murmured voice sent shivers down my spine and my muscles turned to jelly from one instant to the next.  I stopped struggling, but my heartbeat didn't go back to normal.  If anything, it got worse, near ready to break free from my rib cage.

The hands released me for an instant, but only to change to an angle that would allow for better support…of me.  I found that out as a pair of lips crashed into mine, stealing my breath away.

It was Glorfindel.  It had to be.  No one else tastes like that – not that I would know otherwise.  After a small eternity, he pulled back.  If it hadn't been for his hands I would have collapsed into a boneless heap at his feet.

"You have no idea," Glorfy whispered, his voice choked, "how long I have been waiting to do that to you.  That and more."  

_More?  Oh my!  _

"This day has seemed an eternity, since you let me smell the chocolate, and I could hardly restrain myself from finding you."  

"I almost wish you had," I managed back.  "It might have saved some grief."  My back throbbed but I ignored it completely.  There were other, more important things to keep me occupied. Like his scent.  Bloody hell!  I thought I was going to swoon just from the wonderful scent of sun-warmed fields that seemed to cling to him and surround me.  I buried my head in his chest, arms around him.  "I'm sorry I went spastic on you today," I murmured.

"Hush, _tithen pen_.  It is water under the bridge, and long since past."  His lips brushed the top of my head.  After a moment he pushed me back and put one fine-boned finger under my chin, tilting my head upwards.  "You have no more need for worry."

Worry?  I wasn't worrying…not now, at any rate.  Glorfindel was very close, and very comfortable, and very, very kissable.  I now know the true meaning of heaven.

"Now," he said, a beautiful smile in place on his gorgeous face.  I didn't so much see the smile as heard it in his voice.  His breath moved past my ear and shivers chased themselves up and down my spine.  "I believe we have some catching up to do."

Catching up?  What the hell was that supposed to mean?  

Oh!  _That!_ Electric touches and murmured Elvish words and whispers and me getting some 'hands on experience' with his chest…  His muscles firm, yet covered with soft skin…I could keep my hands there all day.

Plus, I found out through exploration that he's ticklish.  The great Glorfindel the Golden Haired, ticklish!  I never would have guessed until he yelped (I would have said 'squeaked', but you know Elves and their dignity) suddenly as I trailed a finger down his side and then grabbed my hand almost roughly.  With a wicked grin my other hand slipped out to get his other side, but it too was captured.  I noticed that just one of his hands could encircle both my wrists.  

"Now, now, Minaimîr," he said playfully.  Any minute now I was going to drown in the puddle that my knees, bones and heart were making beneath me.  It was a wonder I could stand at all, given how he was speaking.  "Do not touch me there unless you wish to invite retribution."  I didn't answer that right away.  I was slightly interested to see what he meant by 'retribution'.

"Not fair," I muttered, tugging experimentally on his grasp.  It didn't budge.  "How come you get one hand free?"

I found out a moment later.  Tickle torture is a painful thing to endure, especially when trying to keep squeals to a minimum.  Squeals attract visitors, and I was having too much fun to be able to put up with being interrupted.    

I'm getting really sick of this farking bruise.  I was having all sorts of fun until one side twisted the wrong way and I yelped.  Glorfy released my hands.

"I am sorry, _mel nîn,_ if I have caused you pain."  He sounded concerned.  We faced each other in the shadows until I couldn't stand not being in contact with him, and put my head on his chest.  His arms went around me loosely to make sure he didn't hurt me any more.

"I can hardly wait," I muttered against those wonderfully firm pectorals of his, "until this bruise is healed.  It gets in the way of so many things!"  I deliberately left that open to innuendo. 

It paid off.  Glorfy leaned down by my ear and whispered in his most seductive tone yet, "I too can hardly wait, my lovely one.  Time until then shall be a torture that I will endure, until you are well enough for..." he left his sentence where it was.  After a moment he added a word in Elvish.

The boundary between rational thought and gibbering mass of incoherence was thinning…if things were going to be like this forever, I wasn't going to need the chocolate!  Well…maybe for special occasions.  I inhaled sharply (you would have too!) and turned my head to look up at him.  What a beautiful profile.  Now, if only I could get my fingers on those ears of his...  

I opened my mouth to speak but found it claimed instead by…well, you can guess.  I'm not going into _too_ many details.  Just rest assured that every sensation was new to me and most, very, very welcome.  At least until…

"Rhiannon?"  It was Fiona.  She was getting closer.  I wanted very much to keep Glorfy doing what he was doing, but he pulled away and muttered something that had a distinct swearing edge to it.  

"Damn!" I whispered myself.  "Looks like we got found anyway, Glorfy."

"So it would seem, Minaimîr," Glorfy replied, rueful again.  "Do we stand a chance if we remain hidden?"

"One would think, but Fiona has an uncanny ability to find me when I'm hiding on her.  Watch."

We watched.  Fe appeared, on Gil-galad's arm.  As they neared our little hiding place, Fe stopped suddenly, looking around.  Finally she looked straight up and at us.  

"Rhiannon, Glorfindel, come out of there!" she said loudly, grin wide across her face.  A soldier or two, passing by on night rounds, looked up for a moment and then returned to their duties, smiles in place.  "I know you're in there!"  We had no choice but to step out.  

I didn't realize until then what we looked like.  Clothes at odd angles, hair messed, blushes colouring our cheeks…I looked down at the ground and tried to stop from turning any more red.  Fiona, however, had other plans.

"Now," she said, still quite loud.  "What, precisely, were you two up to back there?"  Oooo…she was inviting payback.  Just as soon as I could speak, she was going to get it.

"Nothing that need concern the Lady Anórmír," Glorfindel replied smoothly with a slight bow.  "However, if the Ladies will excuse me, I must retire for the night."

"And not escort your Lady back to her tent?" Gil-galad sounded offended but he had a huge grin across his face.  I had apparently been forgiven for my earlier behavior.  "What manners, Glorfindel!  I expected more from you."

I expect a _lot_ more from my golden Elf as soon as I get better, but I didn't dare say that.  Not out loud, anyway.  

Glorfy blushed.  "Perhaps you are right, my Lord," he said and bowed again over my hand.  "My Lady Minaimîr.  Will you allow me the pleasure of escorting you back to your tent?"

"Of course," I said, blushing like an idiot now.  I turned to Fe to find that she was grinning for all her worth.  Glorfy offered his arm and I took it.

Side by side, our Elf Lords escorted us back to the tent we shared as sisters, which was probably for the best.  There was no telling what would happen if we slept over in theirs.  Well, actually, anyone with two ounces of gray matter could have worked it out, but…I'm thinking specifics.

Point is, we all knew that none of us were ready.  Mentally ready.  Physically…well, if we really needed to, we could just eat chocolate.  It wouldn't take much.  

Glorfy and Gilly left us at our tent door, bowed over our hands (and then Glorfy swooped in for a kiss goodnight that lasted a little longer than it probably should have if I was to be getting any sleep), and moved gracefully into the night. 

I shared a look with Fiona as we moved into the tent, and then a sigh.  This was followed rapidly by a squeal, a hug and a sudden outburst of "Details!" and "No, you first!" and other exclamations.  

We fell gradually into explanations of what had gone on earlier, after I had left Fiona with Gil-galad in her tent and then had had an emotional breakdown.  Sitting down on my pile of cushions, I listened with eager ears.                  

Even when explanations were finished, and the night half over, I still couldn't get to sleep.  Now that my fear of loosing Glorfy over my actions of earlier had buggered off…and such a way to find out too!  I'm going to have to do that sort of thing more often…sneak into dark places with Glorfindel, I mean.  

As if you didn't already know that.  

I sighed for the umpteenth time that night and turned over again.

"Rhiannon, go to sleep," Fiona growled sleepily from the other side of the tent.

"I can't," I replied.  "There's too much on my mind."

"I know the feeling," my Elf-sister replied.  "Too much on my mind too."

"What are we going to do about the future?"

"Don't worry about it?" Fiona suggested.  

"But…are we going to marry our Elves, or just have illicit affairs with them, or…" I trailed off.  "Will they even marry us this young?  I thought Elves married off at around fifty.  We've got a long way to go before we hit fifty."

"Rhiannon, I swear, if you don't sleep right now I'm going to –"

"I suppose both Glorfy and Gilly _are_ a couple thousand years old a piece…did you know that Glorfy's died once already?"  I knew I'd cut her off in mid sentence, but… Tiddly boogles.

"Yeah," Fiona murmured.  She was near to dreams.  "Fighting a Balrog, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."  Why is it everyone knows everything except me?  "So…do you think he'll marry me now or thirty one years from now?  Would their customs and rituals even allow for this?  I mean, are we considered to be children by them?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, Minaimîr.  I'm quite sure that if we were still children in their eyes, Ereinion wouldn't have pinched my arse the way he did today."

"_What_?" I half sat up, looking across the dark tent to where I knew Fiona to be attempting to sleep.

"Nothing.  Go to sleep."

"Gil-galad pinched your ass?"

"I said, go to sleep!" 

I stayed quiet for only a moment before my over active mind was off on another tangent.  "What does 'Minaimîr' mean, anyway?  Do you know?  Glorfy wouldn't tell me when he gave me the name."

"Ask him in the morning."

I sighed again and flopped around on my pile of cushions, trying to get comfortable.  I heard a growl from the other side of the tent and suppressed a grin.  

"I did ask him once already and he didn't tell – ow!"  A cushion had come sailing across the tent and had smacked me in the face.  "What was that for?"

"I am trying to sleep!"

"Well, you didn't have to smack me with a – ow!"  I whipped the cushions back across the tent.  A muffled squawk at the other end told me they'd hit their target.

"Cow," Fiona called out.

"Moo," I replied.

"Go to sleep!"  That sounded suspiciously like a whine to me.

"I'm trying!"

"So am I!"

Have I ever mentioned how cranky Fiona can be if you don't let her get to sleep?  It's quite amusing, really, which is why I kept waking her up again.  Part of the reason why, anyway.  The rest had to do with the fact that my thoughts wouldn't leave me alone.  When Fiona quieted down all I got in my mind were images upon images of Glorfindel and his wonderful, muscular and very comfy chest, and his silky hair hanging between us, and his breath on my cheek as he leaned down to whisper…

Fark.  The number of times I've written this into stupid fanfiction stories!  Who would have ever thought that when used in conjuncture with oneself, sap doesn't sound anywhere near as bad?  

Okay, it does sound bad, but…well, you won't understand until something like this happens to you, and then you'll understand perfectly and condemn anyone who says sap is stupid.  Because sap is what makes the world go 'round, my friend.  Well, sap and money.  And some other things too, but I can't think of them right now.

I contemplated beating myself with a cushion but rejected the idea, figuring it wouldn't help my state of mind any.  Thought about going for a walk to, but…well, I just might go for a walk.  Maybe I'll run in to Glorfy…

No, I'd better not run in to Glorfy, because…well…I'm caving, and fast.  And today's chocolate episode got me thinking.  Well, it stopped me thinking and jumpstarted my hormones.  Whichever you prefer, I still don't think meeting up with Glorfy in the dead of night would really be conductive to…sanity.

With a growl I rose.  "I'm going for a walk, Fiona," I said, mostly as a matter of courtesy.  She didn't answer, and after a moment or two of listening, I could hear her snoring from the other side of the tent.  With a half-hearted laugh, I shook my head.  Never would have guessed that Elves snore.  

It was chilly, I realized, but not until after I'd been walking for some time.  I never really noticed until I shivered involuntarily and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.  Just goes to show you how out of it I really had been – I hadn't even brought a cloak.

What I wanted to know, however, was precisely why my thoughts had turned to marriage after only knowing Glorfy for…let's say two weeks.  It has to be by now, but I'll ask Fiona.  

Yes, I am head over heels for this guy, to use a cliché, but that doesn't mean…crikey, what if he has an Elf-maiden waiting for him back at Imladris?  

_Well then, Rhiannon, he wouldn't have kissed you like that._  Enter the inner monologue.  Well, really, mine's an inner dialogue, but…whatever. 

_Unless he's a two-timer-player-sort.  _

_Glorfy?  Are you nuts?_

_Apparently I am because I'm talking to myself._  

_And I'm answering, too.  Maybe you are nuts then._

_In that case, we're both nuts because we're both the same person._  There is a certain amount of logic that one must accept when presented with such a thought.

_Whatever._

Yes, I know.  I talk to myself, and answer too.  This would probably be grounds for institutionalization, if there was an institution around her for me to be committed to, but, well, this is how I deal with thoughts that need more than one opinion, or, at least have more than one side to their consideration.  So don't mind me and help me with my hypothetical situation here.  

Say Glorfy's got some über-Elf-babe waiting for him back at Rivendell.  Now, the attraction could be one sided, on her part (and I can fully understand why!) but…what is she going to say if we show up, and Glorfy's got what amounts to a child hanging off his arm, and we waltz right up to her and say "aren't you happy for the happy couple?"

I'd suspect she'd go spare.  

Damn straight she'd go spare!  I would to, if I were her!  If some little Elf crumpet that Glorfy picked up at the battlefield stole my Elf, I'd definitely go rabid ass wonky!

_Are you saying that I'm a crumpet?_

_No, I'm saying that _I_ am a crumpet.  You're just along for the ride, so get used to it.  So what now?  Are we going to just 'go with the flow' of things and see where they turn out?_    

_If we just 'go with the flow', as you so adequately put it, who knows where we'll end up?  And, that's another thing.  Why the hell do you care what some two bit Elf cracker thinks?_

Good question.  I stopped and looked around, wondering just where the hell I was.  My inner dialogue had left me with some serious questions.  Like 'what the hell am I doing out here with no cloak?' and 'should I even be worrying about this?'

The answer to the second question is more than likely 'no'.  There's just no point.  I keep forgetting that I've got eternity to worry about two bit Elf crackers trying to steal my Glorfy, so I might as well just lighten up and stop being so…

Stupid.  Pathetic.  Whiny.  Sappy…and lots more words to add to that list.  I'm only eighteen for crying out loud!  Why the hell am I worrying about something I've got eternity to think about?

"Good question."

I'll admit it; I let out a startled squeak.  I hadn't even realized that I'd been talking out loud.  I spun around only to find…Elrond.  

Damn it, not him again!  After today's fiasco, I would have thought he'd be keeping his distance, but…

"Yo," I greeted him in the correct fashion for teenagers of my time.  At least, I think it's the correct fashion.  I never really paid much attention to those sorts of things while I was still alive.  

"You, Lady, have a very interesting method for the solution of problems."

I gave him a weary look.  "How's that?" 

"You speak to yourself.  And answer."

"It's a habit."  Well, it is!  I can't help the fact that I'm a raving loony.  A thought occurred to me.  "How much did you hear?"

Elrond's stern face held a definite grin.  It was small, but it was there.  "Enough," he answered shrewdly.  

Has anyone seen a convenient hole into which I could crawl to die?  No?  Pity.  I could use one right about now…I put my face in my hands and groaned. 

"You must think I'm totally psychotic."  He wasn't far from the truth if he did.

He looked puzzled.  "'Psychotic'?"

"Yeah.  Psycho, insane, mentally unbalanced, wacko, total nutjob, lunatic, mad, foolish, crazy, harebrained, nutty, round the bed, off my rocker, a few cards short of a deck, the lights are on but nobody's home, out of my mind, whacked on crack, broken record –"

"Alright, Lady, I believe I catch your meaning."  Elrond held up his hands and shook his head, almost pleading with me to stop my list.

"And?  Do I fit in one of those categories?"        

He tilted his head to one side and regarded me.  "Nay, Lady, I believe that you are just mildly…" he trailed off.

"Unhinged?"

Another of his barely-there smiles.  "Perhaps."

The eyebrow rose but I yawned suddenly and spoiled the effect of my skeptical look.  "I think I should get back to my tent, Elly," I said, stifling another yawn.  Somehow my fears had gone away.  Or maybe I was just too tired to think of them.

"Perhaps.  Although, as an Elf, fatigue should not really touch you, after so long a rest."

"Meh.  Being human is a habit harder to break than talking to yourself."

"So it would seem."  

The silence was deafening.  Sorry…that was one cliché that I just _had_ to add.  And, well, Elrond looked like he was struggling with something on the inside of his brain.

"Would you like me to escort you to your tent?"  He sounded like the words were being pulled from him with a grappling hook.  I grinned half heartedly, thinking that maybe Elrond wasn't such a bad guy after all.  I mean, after our little…chocolate induced haze…if I were him, I wouldn't have even dreamed of going near me!  And here he was, putting it all behind him, at least until Fiona and I did something overly stupid again.

"Sure," I said, and gave him a true smile, rather than a grin.  It seemed to put him at ease.  I'll admit to a slight ulterior motive, though.  I didn't know where the hell I was in relation to my tent.  

We didn't speak on the way back to my tent.  One could almost say that the silence was companionable.  Almost.  There was still some tension, which might have come from Elrond being weary about me being close to him.    

Before he could leave, I stopped him.

"Um, Elrond," I began hesitantly.  I'd been thinking of doing this the whole way back here.  

"What is it, Lady?" he asked, something that could almost be concern on his features.

"Well, I just wanted…I think that I should…" I stopped, taking a deep breath.  "I'm sorry for…molesting you," I finally managed.  I looked down at my feet, face burning.  Wasn't he going to say anything?  .  

"There is no need for apologies," he began.

"There isn't?" I interrupted and looked up, incredulous.  

"The High King has heard your case and forgiven you, and that is enough for me."

I didn't know what to say…but I sure did feel a lot better about what had happened earlier today!  

Before I could formulate a response that would have done his simple words justice, he left me with a slight bow and a "Lady Minaimîr", before fading off into the night back to whatever it is that he does.  And wherever it is that he does it.  

With a sigh I pushed through the tent flaps and flopped down on my pile of cushions.  I was asleep before my thoughts had a chance to catch up with me.          

A/N:  Yes, another author's note.  Hee hee.  These are fun.

Anyway, I just thought I should tell you (if any of you care) that I went and updated my other fic, _Be Careful What You Wish For Part II_, after only four months of not doing so!  Go me!  So, yeah, this is a shameless plug, but go read it.

~_Lai_


	18. Expect the Unexpected

Author's Note (Anon E. Mus): PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! My university semester is about to end, and my tutors have piled dozens of assignments on me that I can't ignore. I've wanted to write this, trust me, but I've had no choice (well, I don't want to fail my first semester at uni) but to continue the endless checklist of assignments. And so much for a week off before exams- ha! Everybody else got it, but not people in my course.worse yet, I have become really sick with flu (still bedridden, but I can't sleep, so I'm endeavouring to finish this), and I had to defer my last exam, so Chapter 20 might be another couple of weeks in the coming. But in the meantime, I'm sure Bride of Legolas will amuse you with Chapter 19 in a few days after I've posted this. To make up for the long wait in between updated chapters, I've made this chapter as long as I can. Anyhow, here it is. ************************* 

I made it as far as Glorfindel's tent before things once again didn't go the way I wanted them to. Glorfindel emerged from his tent at the same time I was about to move the tent flap. He inclined his head politely. 

"Lady Anórmír," he said. 

"Glorfindel," I replied hesitantly. "Do you know where my sister is?" 

"Aye, she sleeps within," Glorfindel gestured to his tent. "I would not have her disturbed, as she is greatly in need of rest. It has been a full day for her, so to speak." I blushed slightly, thinking of the day's events, understanding completely. "But she is well, since I gather that is what you came here for." I smiled. 

"Yes. Can I look in on her?" 

"No. Later, perhaps, but not now. Come, if you are here, the High King must have made his peace with you and thus I am needed elsewhere and you are required in the main pavilion. Come." He put a hand behind my back and propelled me along with him, to my further irritation. I'd had no intention of disturbing my Elf-sister, just to look in and see that she was alright. 

I also began to wonder how was it that Rhiannon had all the luck; how many times had she slept in Glorfindel's tent now? I'd only been granted that pleasure once – excluding the time I visited Ereinion in his own tent once at night. Of course, the invitation had been there for me to stay that night, but my plans didn't follow the High King's wishes and I remain content with my actions that night. Eventually Glorfindel left me to finish the walk to the tent that served as a conference room and I was rather disappointed to find no one there, but I knew Ereinion Gil-galad would return for me eventually. 

I admit, I was rather smug at that thought. However, with no one to distract me, my task was made easier. Writing is something that requires One's full attention, lest bits and pieces be left out. I looked up as Gil-galad and his retinue of advisors and captains entered the pavilion, but aside from a meeting Ereinion's smile with a small shy grin of my own, I did not acknowledge them. After that, my concentration waned somewhat. I couldn't seem to remember exactly what had happened and I found myself crossing things out constantly until I threw down the pen in disgust and gave up. I didn't know what time it was, but I got up anyway.

The Elves and Men were still chattering away and gesturing over sheets of parchment with things written on that I couldn't see. But I was tired emotionally, physically and mentally; and I couldn't concentrate on writing, my thoughts distracted by Ereinion nearby. I glanced over to where Ereinion stood with his fellows, his concentration not on me in the least, but I could still feel the blush on my cheeks as I thought of him; tall, handsome, and just all round hot damn.

I slipped out of the tent, unnoticed by all except for the guards who still stood in place. I walked slowly and listlessly to Glorfindel's tent, checking Rhiannon's well being for myself. Though I trust Glorfindel, he hadn't let me in to see her before and well...seeing is believing, as they say. After sometime of sitting there in the relative silence where the only noise the sound of Rhiannon snoring lightly, I made my way to my own tent and lay down on my bed of blankets, hands behind my head, eyes closed, thinking – well, dreaming really. It was such a nice dream too. I don't think I need to tell you who featured predominantly in that deliciously wonderful fantasy.  
  
It was just when something occurred to me, that I felt the late afternoon sun's light upon me, and I opened my eyes and looked to the person who had just entered. Ereinion.

Who else would it have been?

He knelt beside my 'bed', looking down at me with his deep blue eyes. I couldn't help smiling. He was – IS – so beautiful... for a moment, the worries and concerns of the current situation were gone and the war couldn't touch us...not there, not then. I lost myself in that moment, in his eyes. So much his eyes reflected; timeless wisdom, sorrow, but most of all Love. But then he shifted his head to watch as his hand wandered up to the bottom of my tunic, a grin slowly growing on his ageless face. I lay still, my smile becoming somewhat more 'wicked'.

As he withdrew his hand from beneath my tunic and made to untie my belt to allow him more freedom to roam, I pounced. Literally. I quickly sat up, grabbed his hands and jumped on him. I couldn't help giggling at the stunned expression that briefly flashed across his face, even as his eyes spoke of his amusement and delight. He was smiling appreciatively now and clearly enjoying this whole situation as much as I.

That could be because I was now straddling him.

I made a show of looking him over. "My Lord, we seem to be in a precarious position here," I remarked mildly. 

He grinned, wresting his arms back from my grip around his wrists, and pulled me down closer as he whispered, "I rather thought we were practising." 

"Practising?" I raised an eyebrow. He pulled me ever closer, until our noses were almost touching. 

"For the next time we have the terrible misfortune to be affected by the chocolate." I let him kiss me, enjoying the sensation of adrenaline rushing through my veins and making my heart beat rapidly. "Mmmmmmm," Ereinion moaned softly into my mouth before letting me breathe again. He closed his eyes in rapture. 

"Ereinion," I whispered seductively, having remembered my thoughts from before. How I managed to gain control of my mind, I don't know, because my head was reeling. 

"Hmmm?" 

"How did you know about the undergarments in my bag?" There was silence for a second, as Ereinion opened his eyes and peered up at me. 

"Can not we discuss this later?" 

"If I have to wait, I may forget, and I'm really very curious." Ereinion sighed and turned me around so he could lay with my back against him, his arms firmly circling my waist. 

"You did not think the Elves would be so foolish as to leave you with a bag that might have contained weapons within the presence of their king?" 

"I was rather surprised by that," I commented, waiting expectantly for more explanation, but suddenly the implications hit me. "Who checked my bag?" 

"You need not fear, Anórmír," Ereinion placated gently. "I was the one to ensure that your bag contained nothing of harm. I was much puzzled by what you had brought with you, but I understand now that those items were not of your own choosing." 

I suspected there was more to that comment, and I turned my head to study his face as best I could in my position. Even his face reflected that there seemed to be more, as something like amusement crossed his beautiful features. 

"What?" I asked suspiciously. His raised his eyebrows at me, trying to seem innocent. 

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing." 

"Your whole demeanour at this time indicates that it is clearly not 'nothing'," I replied pointedly. 

"Anórmír," he began, trying to avoid the issue. 

"Don't give me that," I interrupted firmly. "What were you thinking?" 

"It is none of your concern," Ereinion answered sternly. I smirked, settling back down in false obedience, innocently lifting my arms above my head, and into position, where I could best achieve my aim. I'm sure he suspected me of something by then, but I don't think he was ready for it when I started stroking his ear, feeling the shivers run up and done his body involuntarily. I have to give him credit. 

His restraint to my taunting torture was far greater than I'd given him credit for. He lasted several minutes in silence, unable to get away before he let out an explosive breath and panted, "Anórmír." He paused to throw his head back, but I didn't stop. 

"Yes?" I said, innocently as if I didn't know what he wanted to say. 

"Anórmír, if you do not cease your actions, I will be forced...to..." He twisted his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. 

"You were saying?" My answer came in the form of Ereinion turning the tables; now I was lying back to the floor and he kneeled over me. He panted, unable to find words from his passion-riddled brain. He bent down and kissed me again.

But something was different that time.

I felt something within my head...in my mind, 'Anórmír...' I gasped but Ereinion would not let me withdraw from our embrace, and I drew what breath I could from the kiss. 

'Ereinion! What...!?' 

'Shhh...' his mind-voice soothed. 'It is alright, my Anórmír. There is nothing wrong.' 

Nothing wrong!! I was in a blind state of panic, and I couldn't get air to my lungs fast enough to cope with it. I felt Ereinion's mind exploring my own, felt his mind probed about until he found what he was looking, and then something was changed within me. But I didn't understand. When he ended the kiss, I lay panting heavily, confused and dizzy. He kissed me again, softly and quickly this time. 

"Be calm, Anórmír," he said gently as he stroked my hair. "It is alright." I was half aware of tears, falling down my cheeks. 

"What happened?"

 'Our minds are linked, Anórmír. As our Hearts have been since we first saw one another.' His voice spoke in my mind. I smiled, and let out a relieved giggle. "Next time that you decide to do something like that, give me some warning," I advised.

The sun was lowering in the west when Gil-galad led me to the dining pavilion of the Elves. Glorfindel and Gildor sat at a wooden table in a corner, and Ereinion guided me over to them.  
"My Lord Gil-galad, Lady Anórmír," Gildor inclined his head politely as we approached.  
"I trust you find your sister well?" Glorfindel enquired lightly, swirling the wine around in his cup before taking a sip.

I smiled ruefully. "Yes." I should have known he'd be aware that I'd visited my sister.

"My Lord, if I may discuss with you the reports of Prince Anárion?" Gildor enquired.  I sensed Ereinion's frustration, but he didn't show it as he pulled me down onto the bench that served as a seat with him.

When the Elves paused in their talks, that I had contributed nothing to, I smiled at Ereinion and put my hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. "I'll get some meals whilst you talk." It was half a request, half letting my Elf-love where I was going, because I knew that he would not be happy if I just got up and left.

Ereinion nodded, then pointed towards the queue lined up behind the table that served as the cafeteria. The cooking was done outside, brought in through the opening in the tent. "Just over there."  
I peeled his hand off my arm, where he had put it as I stood up. "I figured that out for myself, my Lord."

I went over and joined the queue, attracting the attention of many Elves there. I have to admit, I haven't seen any females here, so naturally seeing a she-Elf in the middle of a war, when they hadn't seen a female for many years, I was bound to attract attention. 

"My Lady," The Elf in front of me inclined his head politely, smiling. I smiled shyly back. "How is it that such a beautiful young Elf-maiden has ended up in the camps of the Last Alliance?" 

He was nice, this dark-haired Elf that had greeted me so courteously, but I was rather nervous. I'm not sure why, though I'm guessing it has to do with knowing the wrong end of Ereinion's jealous side. It could also be that I've rarely been comfortable talking to males- I get all shy, and tend to do or say stupid things. 

"I'm not sure myself," I replied timidly. 

"Rúmion! That's quite a find that you have there," another Elf came over. I didn't quite like the way they seemed to leer at me. Elves don't leer like humans. They can be the soul of courtesy, but they were implying things that would lead to certain other actions and I definitely wasn't comfortable with that right at the moment. 

"That she is," a third and more familiar voice said coming up from behind me. I turned to find Ereinion standing there, and he gave the other Elves a warning glance that clearly said that I was off-limits to anybody else, and they'd have to answer to the High King if they wished to pursue me. 

"Ah, my Lord King," Rúmion greeted with a grin. "I did not realise that you were taken by our charming flower here." 

Ereinion wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I grinned at him, and his expression was the same as he looked down at me. He looked up at Rúmion and the other Elf. 

"I am much taken by Anórmír. Though I fear this war is no place for her or her sister, I think to send her to safety would be a tragedy." 

"A tragedy, my Lord?" Rúmion mocked. "Indeed, it would be. For she would not be here for lonely Elves to gaze upon, to lighten our hearts in the face of this Dark battle. But I wonder, my Lord, if the greater tragedy would be for us to lose her from our sights or for you?" 

I blushed and buried my head in Ereinion's chest. I wanted to hit Rúmion. That was so corny and embarrassing!! Ereinion slipped his fingers under my chin and tilted my head up, granting me a soft kiss. He held me closer. 

"Make no mistake, Rúmion. The Lady Anórmír is already spoken for. You make look, so long as you do not touch." I was mildly amused by that comment; it proved the extent of Ereinion's strong will, that he was used to getting what he wanted. But at the same time, I had no objection. It was nice to have someone who cared that much for me. Rúmion bowed jestingly. 

"As our noble Lord decrees," He grinned at me, as I peeked over my shoulder at him. "If I might be so bold as to request that all step aside to let our love-struck High King and his Lady to get their meals before us?" Ereinion snorted in amusement and led me between the two lines of Elves who moved out of the way as we made our way to the front of the queue. We took a bowl in each hand and made our way back to the table where Gildor and Glorfindel sat grinning, having seen the scene that had taken place just moments earlier. Needless to say, I kept my gaze lowered as much as possible, and mentally willed the blush on my cheeks to cool down. 

"So, Anórmír, perhaps you can enlighten us as to what really happened when Elrond sought yourself and Minaimîr out?" Glorfindel suggested lightly, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Minaimîr was somewhat vague on her account of the event and Lord Gil-galad assures me the tale is amusing to hear." I grinned, unable to do anything further about the blush that crept up on my cheeks. 

"Well..." 

"…And then Rhiannon – that is, Minaimîr – got her hand beneath his armour – she wasn't serious about what she was doing, but it was disturbing Elrond in a way I don't think he'll ever forget.  Obviously it all got to much for him, because the next moment he's bolting out the tent like a scared rabbit!" I recounted for my small audience, who laughed uproariously.  
I don't normally like being the centre of attention, but the incident was so funny and it was nice to be able to tell the tale that I wanted to – i.e., truthfully – without Rhiannon butting in and taking over. I let her do the talking normally, mostly because I'm not always quick to think of answers and any sort of hesitation instantly makes people distrust you. Besides, my Elf-sister has this wonderful way of bellowing at the top of her lungs and moving off the topic until not even the questioner can remember what started her tirade in the first place. It does make things slightly more convenient for us; it's usually at that point they send us off elsewhere while they try to figure out what the hell she was trying to call attention to.

It was at that point that we became aware that someone had been watching us; Glorfindel and I knew immediately who the retreating figure was, and he jumped and raced out into the night to catch up with her.

"Who?" Gildor furrowed his brow as he watched Glorfindel make his hasty exit.

"Minaimîr," I said, sipping water from my cup. "It seems she has decided to awaken once more." I glanced up at Ereinion, who pulled me closer with the arm he had wrapped firmly round my waist.

Gildor, I hope you will excuse us, we must find Glorfindel and make sure he is instructing the Lady Minaimîr to rest more, since her recovery is slower than should be," Ereinion said, getting up from his seat, without letting go of me.

"Of course, my Lord," Gildor smiled, glancing at me. "You needn't make excuses for my sake though. I understood you enjoy avoiding Lord Elrond at night, though perhaps your purpose has some sweet reward in mind should you succeed?"

Ereinion chuckled as he glanced surreptitiously at me. I manage to hide my blush, but not the naughty little grin that threatened to spread across my face. I knew what Gildor was implying, and if Ereinion thought he was going to get his way tonight, he would find himself in a predicament worse than being tied up with a washcloth.

We were silent as we wandered through the light of the fires and torches that lined the pathways between tents...I furrowed my brow as I sensed something, almost heard something.

Rhiannon, I thought without realising that Ereinion would hear me.

'Minaimîr? Where?' Came his voice in my mind.

I jumped slightly, having forgotten our mind-link, but I calmed down a lot quicker than I had last time. 'I'm not sure.she's nearby, I think.if it turns out to be a cat or something, you won't laugh, will you?'

Ereinion chuckled in his throat, a deep rumbling sound that I could have listened to over and over without ever getting bored. We continued walking, until we came to a spot where large rocks protruded from the ground and dead branchy bushes littered the spaces between them. I stopped and grinned. Ereinion didn't need the mind-link to know that I'd found them. We could both hear a certain amount of heavy breathing going on between long pauses.  
"Rhiannon, Glorfindel, come out of there!" I called, successfully stifling a snigger. "We know you're in there!"

The sound of Rhiannon swearing foully came from the bushes.

Ereinion and I only had a few moments to wait before Glorfindel and Rhiannon appeared, both looking rather dishevelled. I raised an eyebrow, and the two seemed to take the hint as they viewed the odd angles at which they were wearing their clothes.

Rhiannon was blushing furiously, but I decided to test her patience and rub it in just a little more. "Now what on earth were the two of you up to in there?" I said loudly as yet more Elves walked by, their mouths turning up in grins as they heard my pronouncement.  
Glorfindel looked about ready to sink into the earth. "Nothing that need concern the Lady Anórmír," he replied smoothly with a slight bow. "However, if the Ladies will excuse me, I must retire for the night."

"And not escort your Lady back to her tent?" Gil-galad said pointedly, grinning as Glorfindel realised his obvious mistake. "What manners, Glorfindel! I expected more from you."  
Glorfindel blushed, but not quite the deep red that coloured Rhiannon's cheeks. "Of course, you are right, my Lord. Lady Minaimîr, will you allow me the pleasure of escorting you back to your tent?"

"Of course," Rhiannon said, the blush not leaving her face as she accepted Glorfindel's arm. I couldn't help grinning as widely as my mouth would allow.

'If you keep smiling like that, I will have to take advantage of it,' Ereinion said in my mind, sending me mental pictures of the kiss he intended to give me once we were alone again.  
'Don't tempt me,' I replied, the blush creeping up on my face now too. Thankfully, neither Rhiannon nor Glorfindel noticed.

The stroll back to our tent – that is, mine and Rhiannon's – was far too short for my taste. I wanted more time with Ereinion when he didn't have to worry about the war that surrounded us. I could tell that Rhiannon was somewhat disappointed with this arrangement, but I was content. My teasing game with Ereinion was going well, and I had no intention of letting him win just yet by.  *Ahem*.

I suspect the link Ereinion created between myself and him went further than just the mind. As we reached the tent, he wrapped both his arms around me, looking down and whispered in my head, 'What it is that has got you all excited now?' His smile showed contentment, but his eyes twinkled mischievously.

I glanced at his chest, noting the beautiful skin I could see at the tempting open of his tunic. Putting my hands on his chest, I reached up on my tiptoes to kiss him softly. I grinned against his mouth as my hands found that opening to his tunic and I fingered his soft yet firm skin that was hidden there. I felt and heard Ereinion's sharp gasp of breath as I did so, but he didn't dare move his arms from around me lest he act in a way that was not consider proper for the High King of the Elves. 'This,' I answered.

Ereinion didn't say anything- couldn't say anything, as I continued to kiss and torture him thus. He took a deep breath slowly, trying to control his breathing so it wasn't obvious that he was panting. He brought his hands to my face. I long for the time when I can return this favour, he growled lustfully.

"Good night, my love," I whispered aloud, that small smirk crossing my face once again. "Be sure to rest well."

"And you also, my lovely Elf-maiden," he replied for the benefit of anyone who might be watching or listening to us. 'Rest well, because when I get that chance to…' He paused to give the innuendo effect, 'you shall not rest for a great long time.' His kissed my hand, and I went inside the tent still smirking, followed by Rhiannon who was still reeling from Glorfindel's kiss.  
I sat on my 'bed' and looked over at Rhiannon as she pulled back the first blanket on her bed to sit down.

We grinned simultaneously and squealed, "Details! No, you first!"

"Absolute heaven," Rhiannon said, flopping back on the pile of blankets. "After Glorfy and I had been booted out by Gilly, leaving you alone with him, I was overwhelmed by the emotion, guilt and exhaustion of it, and spilled a lot of the stuff to Glorfy who took me to his tent and gave me another one of those wonderful massages of his.  Like before, I feel asleep. I hope he doesn't do it while we're…" She gave me a little side-glance, to check that I understood her meaning before she continued. "'Cause I would hate to fall asleep during… Anyhow, I woke up much later as you know, and I wandered over to that tent you were all having dinner at.  You rather seemed to be enjoying yourself spinning that tale for them."

"It wasn't a tale!" I protested. "I spoke the truth!"

"Oh, sure." 

"Alright, with some minor embellishments."

"That's better," Rhiannon put her hands behind her head and continued her story. "And then, of course, I ran off, not really knowing where I was going when these hands started grabbing me. I struggled, thinking it was an Orc or worse, and then Glorfy whispered in my ear..." 

She stopped at this point to giggle incessantly. "And it wasn't much longer before you and Gilly found us."

"In the bushes," I added mercilessly, giggling

"Shut up! It was the closest most private place we could find at the time." Rhiannon retorted hotly.

"It's still funny. Anything else? You're missing quite a chunk of story there. Don't think I hadn't noticed."

"Just a lot of kissing and innuendoes."

"We knew about the kissing. In fact, most Elves who walked by knew about it. Neither of you were trying very hard to hide the heavy breathing and moaning, were you?"

"Hey!" was the only thing that Rhiannon could come up with on short notice to my comment."

"Now what about these innuendoes? Hmmm?"

Rhiannon chuckled wickedly. "He's enthralled. I never realised how lusty these male Elves can be. If it weren't for my neck being so sore, we'd probably have done it then and there."

"I, for one, am thankful that it did not. It would have been a lot worse if Ereinion and I had waited for you to come out, and when you didn't, the two of us go in to see what's happening."

"Count me as two, for being thankful you didn't bust in on us. Although you did a bloody good job of ruining the moment."

"It was bed time, and we wanted to make sure you weren't going to Glorfindel's bed, as everybody knows how much you need your sleep. We suspected there wouldn't have been much resting going on if we didn't check up on you. Turns out we were probably right."

"That's besides the point, now, your turn. Spill the beans; what did you and Gilly get up to after we'd gone?"

"We talked; Ereinion seemed very unnerved by your little speech at the main pavilion. He was quite apologetic. He was quite understanding, and wanted our version of what had happened. Apparently Elrond had not gone into details, he'd just said exactly what Ereinion accused us of – molesting him. Once I cleared that issue up, everything was good and we got the making up part – kissing, that is. I like that part. If it were up to me, we'd skip the angry outbursts and explanations and skip straight to the making up."

"I bet you'd enjoy making out even more than making up," Rhiannon grinned wickedly.

I sighed feigning exasperation, grinning wicked in the near pitch black. I'm sure I would too. But not just yet.

I looked around the 'room', trying to see Rhiannon's reaction in the darkness. Our tent was not large by the standards of the Elves' tents that we had seen, but by no means was it as small as those that people used back home for camping. Rhiannon's bed lie to one side of the tent flap against the tent 'wall', if you can call it that, and mine was directly parallel opposite, on the other side of the tent flap. The 'entrance' itself was enough so the two armoured Elves could stand comfortably within its cloth frame. The middle of the room was bare, except for the blanket that served as a covering of the ground. I'm sure I've mentioned before that the beds in the camp were made of blankets, including the 'pillows'- I'm astounded that the Elves could bring so many. Of course, between bringing more blankets or heaving feather pillows and mattresses, I suppose it was easier that way for such a huge army.

My mind was drifting off to Ereinion's bed, wondering what it would be like with him in it, when Rhiannon broke the silence that had fallen over us.

"Well?"

I turned my head to look at her in the dim light that the tent allowed through its fabric.

"Well, what?"

"Well, what happened then? You didn't think I'd let you get away with telling me only that much did you? There's more, and I know it." Rhiannon demanded.

"I went to Glorfindel's tent, he wouldn't let me in to see you, and he practically pushed me to the main tent.  I spent a bit more time writing; but I kept getting distracted, so I left and went to check on you. Your snoring wasn't all that entertaining, so I came back here."

"And? How did you end up at the dining 'hall' with Gilly, with Gilly's arm firmly attached to your waist that looked to promise that he would never be letting go?"

Bloody Rhiannon. Why does she have to be so nosy!? My game with Ereinion is mine, and NO ONE shall interfere!

I sighed and gave in. Damn my weak will. "Ereinion found me here, we did some more of that kissing and cuddling that I mentioned before..." I hesitated to tell her about the 'link' Ereinion had created between us. I decided not to. I wanted to keep it to myself, for it to mine and Ereinion's secret alone for now. Realising that Rhiannon's curiosity was growing as the silence grew longer, I continued, "...and some tumbling around as well." 

Rhiannon squealed and clapped her hands delightedly. 

"He's very strong, much stronger than I had thought he was. I don't envy anyone who falls in his path as the Enemy. Anyhow, it wasn't so long and we were off for dinner, him and Gildor and Glorfindel talking shop."

Rhiannon burst out laughing. "That sounds so funny the way you put that! I can't imagine guys 'talking shop'."

"It's an expression for when a bunch of people talk about the current issues in their life. For girls that's clothes and boys and whatnot; for guys, here and now, it's the war."

"Nooooo...Really? I never would have guessed!" she remarked wryly. "But it still sounds funny. I get this image of the three of them sitting around in a pink-wall cafe, sipping tea from china cups and dressed in frilly pink dresses."

I giggled. "Well...now that you put it that way..."

"Anything else happen in my absence?"

"Not much. I queued up to get dinner for us, and got hit on by a couple of Elves, at which point Ereinion came over and made sure they all knew they were to keep their hands off me- that might be why he was giving out the impression he wasn't letting me go- and then I was asked to explain what had really happened in the Elrond incident. I feel kinda sorry that he wasn't there to defend himself – although I *did* tell the truth, mostly – but we had a good laugh anyway. I'll have to apologise some day. He's not a bad guy, he's just doing his job and we come in and stir things up."

After that, we eventually turned over and shut our eyes and went to sleep. Or at least, I tried to. Rhiannon tossed and turned, keeping me awake.

"Go to sleep, Rhiannon," I grumbled, not opening my eyes.

"I can't," she whined. "There's too much on my mind."

Yeah…Glorfindel. Damn it, can't she just dream about him instead of thinking? That's what I was doing, though it wasn't Glorfindel who occupied my wonderful fantasies.

I sighed. "I know. I've got too much on my mind too."

"What are we going to do about them? About the future?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry about it?" First things first, we needed sleep. Ponderings of what we were going to do could happen later. Of course, I must admit, I already had my intentions planned out. I had been in the middle of planning what other terrible tortures I could inflict before Ereinion returned the teasing on a level where there was no returning from.

"But...are we going to marry our Elves, or just have illicit affairs with them, or." She paused. "Will they even marry us this young? I thought Elves married off at around fifty. We've got a long way to go before we hit fifty."

Well, if my plans worked out, Ereinion would definitely be wanting...*ahem* certain activities...and I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't do anything of that sort unless I was married to the guy. Rhiannon seems to have to ponder these questions, whereas I figure it all out from the beginning. It's called planning, and it makes things soooooo much more fun. Admittedly, it's calculated in its approach, but at least I know what I want and how I'm going to get it. And I'm sure Ereinion doesn't mind all that much, so long as he gets what he wants in the end.

"Rhiannon, I swear, if you don't go to sleep right now, I'm going to – "

"I suppose both Glorfy and Gilly are a couple of thousand years old a piece...did you know that Glorfy's died once already?"

"Yeah, fighting a Balrog, wasn't it?" I answered tiredly. And Ereinion is 3572 years old, give or take a few years, I thought to myself, which is only 3554 years older than me. This gives a completely new meaning to "cradle snatching"

"Yeah...So do you think Glorfy'll marry me now or in thirty-two years from now? Would their customs and rituals even allow for this? I mean, are we considered to be children by them?"

I suppose I could've avoided Rhiannon's worried babble if I'd just pointed out that Elrond's father Eärendil had been about 18 (our current age) when he married Elwing (who is about three years older than him), and a few years later the two of them got together and Elwing popped out the twins we know as Elros and Elrond. But I didn't. Rhiannon isn't all that receptive to notions that make her stopping being a worrywart. She loves to have a good panic over nothing.

"Shut up and go to sleep. I'm quite sure that if we still considered children in their eyes, Ereinion would not have pinched my arse the way he did today." I scaled down the truth a bit. Ereinion had grasped my arse, not pinched. Still, I knew even that was likely to brighten Rhiannon's curiosity.

"What?!"

"Nothing. Go to sleep."

"Did you just say Gil-galad pinched your arse?"

"I said, go to sleep!"

Rhiannon was quiet for about two seconds before she started another conversation. "What does 'Minaimîr mean, anyway? Do you know? Glorfy wouldn't tell me when he gave me the name."

Either I was having deja vú or I recalled an earlier conversation when I'd already told her that I had no idea.

"Ask him in the morning," I suggested grumpily, turning onto my back, to see if I could get to sleep better that way. I heard Rhiannon 'fluffing' her pile of blankets that she used as pillows, wriggling around between each small moment of silence in which she tried out another pose in her bed. When it didn't seem to stop, I let loose a peeved growl and hurled the pillow-case filled with soft blankets at her.

It occurred to me she'd been saying something to me before she let out an equally peevish, "Ow! What was that for?"

"I'm trying to sleep!" I don't know how it was I managed to refrain from petty name-calling.

"Well, you didn't have to - OW!" She yelped as I flung another one at her. This time she didn't try to reply with words- she threw my pillows back at me.

"Oof!" I muttered as the force of the blows pushed me back. "Cow!"

"Moo!" she replied in typical Rhiannon fashion.

"Go to sleep!" I half-ordered, half-begged.

"I'm trying!"

Yes, you are very trying Rhiannon. "So am I!" I retorted. It was at this point I realised that Rhiannon was annoying me simply because she knew it pissed me off. So I grabbed my pillows, stuck them back under my head, closed my eyes and ignored her.

I think she got the point, because she didn't say anything else. I was half-asleep when faint torchlight streamed into the tent and the sound of Rhiannon leaving brought me to a vague consciousness. I closed my eyes again, thankful that I would be able to get some peace to sleep. My sleep-riddled mind didn't care whether she was heading for Glorfindel's tent or not, just so long as it wasn't me she was annoying.

I don't know how long it was until I felt the light on my face as the tent flap opened again, and heard heavy footsteps - footsteps that numbered too many to be just Rhiannon, and too heavy to be any Elf.  I started, opening my blurry eyes, but I wasn't quick enough as somebody grabbed me, automatically putting a hand over my mouth before it occurred to me to scream for help. I struggled as I was lifted easily from my bed of blankets, kicking and twisting my head, clutching at my kidnapper's arms with my nails, trying to pull his hand away from me. He reeked, this guy. He smelt of months old sweat, body odour and dried blood. I'm surprised he didn't have a trail of flies hanging off him. On second thoughts, I don't like that idea; especially now that he's touching me. I don't know how it was I hadn't smelt him from a mile away, but he'd gotten into the tent with his companions, who were helping him to subdue me.

"Stop it, bitch!" a nastily familiar voice snarled in hushed tones from in front of me. He was obviously scared that the Elves would hear. "Or we'll be forced to hurt you. I can't afford to be caring for a stupid wench because I had to beat her into submission!"

I knew that voice. Where did I know that voice from? I stopped thrashing about, but the hand didn't move from my mouth. I didn't like the suggestions the man was making, but I had a better chance of escaping if I co-operated until I knew what they had planned for me. My mind conjured horrors I wasn't willing to face, but I promised myself that if they tried anything of the sort, I'd rather go down fighting than face the damaged life I would have to lead otherwise.

As my hands and feet were bound, I heard one of them whisper, "The other bitch ain't here. You don't think she's with that damned prissy Elf- lord, do you?"

I felt the tip of a knife at my throat.

The familiar voice spoke again quietly. "Tell us where the short brown haired wench is, and don't think even think of trying to scream – I can cut your throat quicker than any Elf can get here."  
The hand moved from over my mouth, and I fought the urge to gag. I thankfully had my excuse already made. "I don't know," I hissed. "She walked out without telling me where she was going."  
There was silence as my captors judged the veracity of what I'd said. Nothing else was said, but obviously there had been some sort of signal, as I was gagged, blindfolded and then dragged outside the tent and thrown unceremoniously onto a horse's back.

'Ereinion?' I said in my mind, but I wasn't sure if my Elvish love would hear me. I had no idea how to communicate with him in that way, and his presence didn't seem to be in my mind. I made a mental note to get him to teach me some time soon after his wrath was dispelled onto these rats. I spat in my mind at the notion that men had any honour. 

I don't know how it was they kept me on the horse without any Elves seeing as they rode to their camp, but judging by the length of the journey, I knew that we had long since passed King Elendil's camp and that we were in Isildur's territory when the horses came to a stop and the men dismounted. I felt the men grabbed the back of my tunic and hauled me down from the horse, dragging me by the shoulders into the tent. There was light here, and my eyes blinked several times before they adjusted to the light. There was shadow, a form of another man, pouring wine by the sounds of it, his back to me as I knelt still bound by hand and foot. As he turned to survey me, my face became a mask of quiet fury. 

As the gag was removed, I spat, "Isildur! I should've known!" Cliché that, but at the time, I felt so stupid that I hadn't guessed it was him behind the kidnapping idea. Isildur raised his eyebrow, taking a sip of his wine. 

"But why? I would be the last person anyone would suspect of doing such a thing. My honour is unquestionable in this matter, or any other." 

"Whatever you think," I glared haughtily at him. Isildur's face darkened for a moment, and he took another sip of the wine, before putting his metal goblet back on the little table. 

"If I were you, I wouldn't try my patience, she-Elf. The Elves might have fallen under your spell, but I won't. One word from me will bring Captain Dúmassë with an axe to cleave off your head!" 

I stared back at him, refusing to look down or show any signs of fear to this psychotic maniac. Isildur turned, somehow satisfied that my empty silence meant that he had won the contest of wills. 

As his back faced me I replied softly, threateningly, "And in that one word, you would destroy everything. Ereinion will know at the exact instant that I were dying what you had done and his wrath would fall upon you with greater force than the Dark Lord himself. Your own father would disown, for the sake of the Alliance and to appease Ereinion's anger. Ereinion knows what the Alliance means to the fate of Middle Earth; he would accept the gesture, but later he would hunt you down like the dark vile creature that you are. Run, Isildur, if you start now, you might live for another day before he finds you." 

Isildur spun around, his eyes blazing with an unknown emotion. Wordlessly, he stalked out of his tent, his men following in tow. Dúmassë glared at me one last time before he too left.

Alone, I allowed myself to sit down as best I could with hands and feet tied, taking a deep breath and sending a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Rhiannon would be able to escape and alert Glorfindel and Ereinion of what was afoot. Isildur's tent was sparsely furnished, like most of the commanders' tents, it had a small table that served as a desk, and a bed of rough strewn blankets. There was a small lantern lit on the desk that gave light to the 'room', a mercy I was grateful for. If I'd been left in the dark, my mind would have invented all sorts of ideas behind Isildur's reason for planning the kidnapping of myself and my Elf-sister. 

Tears welled in my eyes and I had to blink many times to get rid of them. So much had happened in the past week, and the weight of the emotions I'd carefully kept hidden came crashing down. The light no longer brought comfort in this strange place, the tent of one who may or may not intend to kill me. My thoughts drifted back to my family. I'd avoided thinking about them until now, knowing how upset it would make me if I did. I wondered how they'd reacted to my death. Did they believe I was to blame for the accident? How many times did my elder sister end up in hospital because her heart pained her with grief? How were my younger brother and sister coping without me to help them with dinner, schoolwork and keeping our older sister amused in hospital? Had Dad come home from working overseas for my funeral? What did Nanna believe? And my mother...? I swallowed a thick lump in my throat, and tried to think of something else. My sight was blurry with tears now, the salty drops streaming down my face in unrestrained rivers. I wondered what happened to the chocolate we were carrying laughed out loud at that thought, quelling much of my sorrow at the separation from my family. 

I hope our families had sued the truck driver and got a lot of money. I can live with death so long as my family has some sort of compensation to take care of them in my absence. Still I had Rhiannon for family now, so I was not totally alone in this strange world, no matter how far the distance apart we were. She had been my best friend, perhaps my only true friend.a saying came unbidden to my mind.

_A good friend will come bail you out of jail.  But a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Damn...we screwed up."_

I fell onto my back laughing at just how apt that adage was. Rhiannon and I had stuck by one another through everything, even when the problem was caused by only one of us. I was quietly smiling to myself, all trace of tears gone when I heard the sound of horses outside the tent. Isildur walked in, smirking, clearly satisfied about something he'd done. 

"Ah, Lady Anórmír.  In better spirits this time, I hope?" he greeted me, still congratulating his self-victory. "I have pondered your words whilst my men waited for your sister to return to your tent – which she did, and was caught in much the same manner as yourself – and I am profoundly grateful that you have pointed out the error of my plans." 

I raised an eyebrow, acting supreme, until Captain Dúmassë carried Rhiannon inside. I could see the growing bruise that flowered on her face in black and purple shades. 

"Rhiannon!" I exclaimed. "Rhiannon!  Wake up." I glared at Captain Dumbass as he dropped her like a sack of potatoes in my lap. 

Rhiannon groaned and slowly began to move. She opened her eyes and looked herself over, surveying the damage. Lifting her tied hands to her head, she grumbled something unintelligible. 

"Rhiannon," I breathed gratefully. "Thank the Stars, you're alright." 

"Fiona?" She mumbled, blinking to clear her blurry eyes. "What the bloody fark happened?" 

"Such an interesting saying you have there," Isildur interrupted haughtily. His arrogance was starting to irritate me. If he wasn't careful, tied hands or no, I was going to slap him. "No wonder you two are such a distraction. And we cannot be having with such distractions." 

"Isildur?" Rhiannon queried, as puzzled by his presence in the matter as I had been. Her confusion turned to a scowl as she turned her head; it still pounding by the looks of it. "What do you want?" 

"To get you two out of here so we can concentrate on winning this war," he replied, for a moment he seemed genuinely sad; about something anyway. I doubted it was about us in anyway. "I am sorry," he continued, "for the treatment you have received at the hands of my men. I will see to it that they are punished." 

"Sorry, my ass," Rhiannon snarled, wincing in pain, clutching at her head. 

"If you didn't want us to be harmed," I said ominously quiet, "Then you should not have sent those - hooligans!" I struggled to find a mildly offensive word that would not be beyond the sensibilities of an Elf to say. I did have a reputation to maintain. 

"I gave the matter to Captain Dúmassë to handle," Isildur frowned, looking to his captain. I rolled my eyes. Given our history with the Captain, he was the worst possible choice Isildur could have made when selecting the head-accomplice of our kidnapping. But then, Isildur's a Man, and we can't make assumption he'd do something that's actually intelligent. Isildur shook his head dismissively, obliviously to my reaction. 

"It makes no matter, for I am still responsible for your keeping." He drew a dagger from his belt, and I kept back my smart reply to that comment. But when he bent down, it was only to cut the ropes that bound our hands and feet. Rhiannon rolled over and sat up, her weakened movements professing her dizzy state. Hastily I threw my ropes off and steadied her. 

"Ereinion is going to have your head for this," I stated darkly, angry that my sister had been put in such a state. She still needed rest from the last incident we got into! Smashing her pretty face was not putting Isildur in good stead to come out of this alive or with balls intact. 

"The High King will likely thank me for removing that which distracts him and Lord Glorfindel – you two – and putting you where you will be safe!" Isildur countered, but he sounded less sure of himself now. I took pride in that. 

Removing us? That's what this was all about? I suddenly had my own doubts. Ereinion and Glorfindel had been severely concerned when Rhiannon and I jumped into the middle of the war and got our selves in a bad situation.  They'd kept us busily away from any sort of fighting since. My wound had healed quickly (damn I love being an Elf!) and was now just a faint line on my side, but it was a reminder of how stupid we'd been, and the lengths Ereinion was willing to go to, to ensure that I wasn't hurt again. 

Since the day I'd left Ereinion tied to the chair, there had been no further talk of when we would resume our lessons in fighting. But Ereinion had had every chance to send us away elsewhere and he hadn't, the better part of my mind pointed out firmly. He kept you at his side, close by at every opportunity. You're not his weakness. You're his strength. You give him reason, hope and purpose to end this war. I heartily agreed with that. I'm sure he'd much prefer to spend the majority of his time chasing around with me and a small part running his Elven kingdom than spending the majority of his time running a war campaign and the minority with me. 

I smiled smugly inwardly, keeping my expression emotionless. I looked up at Isildur, who had been watching me silently, knowing that I was thinking through his words. I doubted he'd realized I'd come to a very different conclusion than the one he wanted me to and thought I had. Making sure I gave no hint of my real thoughts in my voice, I asked evenly, "Where are you going to send us?" 

"To my city, Minas Ithil," Isildur replied, his tone more respectful now, clearly thinking I'd had a change of heart. "For it is closest. There you will be given the most comfortable of apartments in which to dwell and to await the ending of this war." If Isildur had lived on Earth, I bet he'd have been a Marketing Director. His persuasive words and tone were not lost on me. After studying business, and knowing exactly how nasty the personnel in the Marketing Departments are (no offence to anyone who is – there are always exceptions to the rule), I was not falling for it.  If I waited there until the end of this war, there would be no reason for me to live. I knew Ereinion was doomed to die at the end of that war, and I had no intention of sitting around waiting for him to die. It made me all the more resolute to get away and back to Ereinion as soon as was possible. 

"Yeah, and become Nazgûl fodder," Rhiannon muttered, louder than she had anticipated. Pretending that nobody had heard that, she said, "No thank you. I think we'll take our chances here." It seemed Rhiannon had come to much the same conclusion as I had. 

This didn't impress Isildur one bit. "You do not have any choice in the matter," he declared firmly, watching my sister. "You will be taken to Minas Ithil as soon as the horses arrive." It seemed strange to me that he would say that, when we had been brought here by horses and it was then that I suddenly noticed that Isildur's men had not remained like they had before. The logical part of my mind pointed out that they hadn't had packhorses before, and that we would need them to carry our supplies. Isildur led us just beyond the tent flap; it was dark here, the night being long past midnight, but nowhere near dawn yet. Captain Dúmassë, Sergeant Lichmé and a half dozen or so men wandered out of the night with two horses a piece. 

Dúmassë threw a coil of rope to Isildur, who apologized whilst he tied our wrists together again and gagged us, "My sincerest apologies, Ladies, but this is just to make sure you don't try any heroics or escapes before you reach Minas Ithil. Once you are inside my city, I can rest assured that no guard will let you leave the outer walls without the express written permission of myself." That didn't inspire my confidence. Even if by some chance Rhiannon and I didn't manage to get away before we reached Isildur's city, the notion that we would be the last to leave in the event of an attack was not a good one. Worse yet, we were stuck there unless this jackass decided we could leave – and I doubted it was to be to send us closer to the war. If anything, he'd probably send us even further away, to Minas Anor or further. 

Sergeant Lichmé brought a horse over to us, and held the reins firmly in his hand, the other hand on the horse's head to make sure it got the message it wasn't to move, no matter what. Captain Dúmassë grabbed Rhiannon around the waist and she kicked out as he lifted her off the ground, and onto the horse's back. 

"Get your filthy hands off me!" she snapped through the gag, even as Isildur stood back and surveyed me. 

"I am not certain that I could lift you so high off the ground as to help you mount the horse, Lady Anórmír," he said courteously. Clearly my feigned obedience had warranted me special treatment. "If you were to move closer to the horse, I could give you a leg up." He put his hands together in a stirrup manner to show his meaning. I reluctantly moved closer to the horse where Rhiannon was scowling. 

I turned to Isildur who had come up behind – to close for comfort, I thought – and put my foot in his hands. I rested my bound hands on the horse's back, and then pushed off the ground with my right foot as Isildur lifted my other leg to make sure I got my right leg over the horse's back. I made it first time, and the horse shifted a bit, causing me to try to shift my balance in time. Isildur grabbed my arm to steady me, leaving Rhiannon to grab the horse's mane and try not to fall. 

Personally, I would've preferred what Rhiannon got. My skin shrank away from Isildur's touch, as though it somehow poisoned me to be in contact with him. The horse calmed down, and Isildur let go, stepping back. Sergeant Lichmé handed the reins of our horse over to Captain Dumbass who was already mounted. Lick-me mounted his own horse, and checked that the rest of the men were ready. 

"Safe journey," Isildur said to us all with a nod of his head. With that, the horses were kicked into a gallop and we left the camping grounds of the Last Alliance, unchallenged and unknown.

It seemed like we'd been riding forever when dawn finally approached. I welcomed the light after the long dreary night, though the surrounding view was not so pleasant. The Marshes are even less cheerful than the battlefield we had left just hours before. The dull browns and grays of the mud didn't lighten anybodies mood, and the rank smell made even the hardiest stomach want to revolt in protest. Even our toilet back home smelt better after my brother had used it. 

I was briefly thankful that we did not stop there. An aura of death and sorrow hung on that dreadful place, and I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened when I remembered just how many Men and Elves would die in that place. 

The exhaustion of that galloping flight from Isildur's camp was not lost on any who rode in that group. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sun revive me with its warm glow. I opened my eyes and saw Rhiannon's hideous bruise as she tried to glance over her shoulder at me without losing her balance. I wished there was some sort of gesture I could have made to reassure her, but my arms were wrapped around her, my bound hands against her stomach, in my only hope of staying on the madly galloping horse. As the sun began to lower in the west, the men slowed the horses, and gradually came to a halt. I removed my arms from Rhiannon's waist, pulling them over her head as she ducked. I slid off the horse, and helped Rhiannon to do so as well. Whether they intended for us to or not, we were aching all over, and most definitely saddle sore.I don't know how those guys can do it, ride all day then dismount and walk around with no hint of pain between their legs. It bloody hurts, if you ask me, and I'm female! One of the men came over and untied the gags, leaving us to our own devices as the other men searched for water. 

"Fiona," Rhiannon said quietly, wincing as her jaw ached at the movement. "First chance we get, we're out of here." 

"Agreed," I whispered, my throat to dry to speak any louder. "I'm not going to Minas Ithil. Not with these shit-heads." 

"Nor am I, if I can help it." She glanced over her shoulder to see if the men were watching, and when they noticed us standing there. I suppose we were acting somewhat suspiciously, and it seemed the Dumbass and Lick-me knew what sort of ideas we were having because they brought over a chunk of flat bread and a water-skin, which they handed to us. My knees felt like they would give out any second, but I refused to collapse in front of these mongrels and thus I stood for the few minutes in which we were given sustenance. 

Immediately after, another of the men gave us a leg up back onto the horse and we were off again, at a trot this time, much to mine and Rhiannon's displeasure. Trotting is an awful gait on a horse when you don't have stirrups with which to raise yourself against getting your arse bounced painfully all over the seat of the saddle, but when there are two people who have their hands tied together, riding bareback on a horse they have no control over, it gets mightily uncomfortable. Unable even to get a grip of the horse's flanks with my knees so that I might raise my bruised posterior, I endured the bouncing with as few winces as I could manage. I couldn't see Rhiannon's face, but I doubted she faired any better than I did, her neck being jolted as it was. We were much nearer the mountains that night, as the light of the stars revealed to us against the black sky of night, and there was a faint wind that blew in our faces as we continued our ride. 

Though I was eternally grateful that we would not have to breathe in the rotten fumes of the Marshes, I wished Men did not have an aversion to baths! Or at least, for them not to be in our way of the breeze! It would have been a nice change to breathe in fresh air for once! The only consolation of this all, was thinking that by now, it was inevitable that Ereinion and Glorfindel would had found us gone and started a search party at the very least.

By my judgment of time it was somewhere about midnight when we stopped for proper rest. I know that I was very tired, and had wanted to sleep many times, and Rhiannon and leant forward so that I could rest my head on her back to sleep, but I only slept in a few minute snatches, frightened that my head bouncing on her back was not helping it to heal. It was also very uncomfortable to try sleeping when the horse is trotting. I dismounted, grateful to be able to still stand when my feet hit the ground. My legs very nearly gave out on me in protest. 

Rhiannon didn't even try landing on her feet, she just rolled off the horse's back and aimed to land on the biggest natural cushion she owned – her arse. She succeeded. I let out a puff of breath that was the best equivalent to laughter I could manage in my drained state. She sat there, fighting off unconsciousness, the rolling of her eyes and blinking giving away her extremely ill condition. She was dizzy, that was obvious as she tried to blink the stars from her eyes. I helped her stumble over to the small fire the men had made. For a moment, I despaired that she would be well enough to escape if the opportunity arose, and that we would never get back to Ereinion and Glorfindel before we were at Minas Ithil, but I shoved it out of my mind and concentrated on helping my Elvish sister. She has the profound ability to spring back from just about anything. 

Several of the men who had slinked into the darkness returned with a handful of dead rabbits in their hands. It made me sick to think we'd likely be eating those, and I turned my head as they skinned them and gutted them. The smell of them cooking wafted over to us, and I could see Rhiannon, with dark rings under her eyes (where there wasn't bruising), watching the rabbit meat over the fire hungrily. 

I was somewhere between hunger and nausea. I suppose I'd better explain my dislike for rabbit meat. Granted, I've never had it, it could be quite tasty.  But my mother lived on a farm and sometimes rabbit was all the meat they could get/afford for themselves, and she regaled us with stories that not even Nanna's cooking could make them taste any better than average. My Nanna is a brilliant cook, and if she can't do anything to make it taste good, you know it's a lost hope that these rabbits were going to taste nice. Besides, the notion of eating something I'd watched being skinned and gutted...ugh! 

Rhiannon and I were given a rabbit to eat amongst our selves, without cutlery or plates. Needless to say, I am not one for adventure or camping. I am meticulous about how I do things, when the situation is in my control, I go into it over-prepared, which usually turns out to be a good thing. Right now though, I could tell that my high-standards of propriety were not going to help Rhiannon or I in our current circumstances. Rhiannon stuffed her face with rabbit meat ravenously, chewing hungrily and I less enthusiastically joined in. It was somewhat burnt but for that I was grateful; I'd rather eat something that tastes mostly like charcoal than it does rabbit. I watched keenly unnoticed by the hungry men, that Dúmassë had plunged his knife into the dirt next to him, leaving it unattended for the moment. It stood tantalizingly just a metre or so away. I went back to tearing little bits and pieces off rabbit off with my bound hands and eating them. I turned to Rhiannon who seemed to have noticed much the same thing. 

"Get some rest," the captain growled at us, as he lay back next to the fire, wriggling a bit to get comfortable. "And don't bother trying to escape, you won't get far, and even if you did, you couldn't survive for long." 

"Then why the hell did you tie our hands together then, Dumbass?" Rhiannon snarled with food in her mouth. I'm not the most graceful of people, but Rhiannon seriously needs to learn some etiquette. I think I've made it my unspoken challenge to be the one to do that and I've found that just by being around her, my actions can influence the way she does things. Not often, but every now and again Rhiannon will actually think before acting or speaking, which she normally wouldn't. 

One of the men with a face that rivaled a dog's butt (no offence to dogs) came up with a wicked grin and shoved a waterskin at Rhiannon. She took a swig without much qualm and passed it to me. I wiped the mouthpiece - I didn't like sharing saliva with those disgusting men; no offence, Rhiannon. 

"I would prefer not to risk the lives of my men for a pair of silly women who will not listen to reason and who insist upon heading for the hills at any moment despite the innate futility of their actions," Captain Dumbass retorted. His men roared with laughter at their captain's description of us. 

"You could always let us return to the camp," I said civilly, the men automatically stopping their mirth to listen. It was nice to know they had some kind of manners, that they would immediately shut up to listen to the soft spoken words of a lady. I might not act like a lady at times, but as an Elf-maiden with the eye of the High King of the Elves, I was ennobled whether these asses liked it or not. 

"We have our orders," Lichmé replied resolutely, in some tiny part apologetic. "You are to be taken to Minas Ithil and kept out of the way of the Elvish King Gil-galad and his Lieutenant, the Lord Glorfindel. Although I understand how you two could be 'distractions', I do not see what either of them could find attractive in you." I did not appreciate that comment, and glared at to make sure he knew. Rhiannon did likewise at my side. Lick-me suddenly looked very uncomfortable. I was half-heartedly thinking that I should point out that it was because of them, that we were currently nothing to look at (mud, dirt, no bath, bruised and sore…I certainly didn't subject myself to that willingly!), but I restrained myself on a count of they were not worth the effort. 

The men talked amongst themselves as Rhiannon and I sat quietly, not really listening in. I made sure not to watch Dumbass' knife too closely, lest he notice and put it away properly. Rhiannon's outburst had given me hope that my Elvish sister would be able to make the journey back to camp once we came up with a plan to escape. The men settled down to sleeping, leaving Rhiannon and I still sitting unobtrusively to one side. Two of the men stayed awake, looking out into the darkness to detect any enemy presence. Carefully, I crept forward on my hands and knees from my seated position and carefully grasped Dumbass' knife from the ground. I moved back to me seat silently, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I couldn't believe I'd just done it! I got Dumbass' knife without him knowing! 

All right, so I was rather arrogant about that. I'm entitled to some pride. You might've noticed I'm not one to do brave things, and this was probably the bravest – and stupidest – thing I'd ever done. Rhiannon's influence on me must be growing. 

I was so thrilled I had to restrain myself from giggling and giving myself away. Moving quietly and slowly so as not to attract the attention of the slack-arsed sentries. I was freed in no time, turning to cut Rhiannon's bonds. I saw the pride in her eyes, like that of a mother-duck whose ducklings just learned to fly. We didn't say anything, and indeed we didn't need to. The time we'd spent together had conformed our thinking to the same ideas and notions. And really bad clichés. 

Our luck held as the so-called sentries fell asleep. Snoring is a dead giveaway that you'd not paying attention to your job. Although it was good news for our escape plan, it sent a shiver down my spine to think that if we hadn't been awake, we could've been woken to a bunch of orcs slitting our throats. And that was not a nice thought. 

I must be grateful that we were now Elves, because I can think of no other way that we could have pulled the stunt off so quietly. One by one, we tied them up and gagged them to a thorny tree nearby, before they started to wake up and realised what had happened. I find it hard to believe that grown men don't feel themselves being dragged from their beds to a prickly tree or that they had been tied up and gagged, but there you have it; stupid men do have purpose after all. 

Rhiannon stood far away enough to be beyond their reach as she stared down at them all, giggling and sticking her tongue and taunting them. I had no such desire to taunt the men like that. Granted, I wanted to rub in the fact that we'd just gone and done what they had thought impossible – that's what they get for assuming two young Elf-maidens are incapable of such things; so I left it to Rhiannon to mock them, whilst I searched the saddle bags for food and any other equipment that would be handy to have on our way back. Remember, we'd come about entire 24 hours worth of riding from the camp, and who knew what we would meet trying to return. It was then that I found… 

"Hey Rhiannon!" I called out. Rhiannon looked up mid-taunt. "I found our backpacks!" 

"What the hell are they doing here?" Rhiannon wondered aloud, coming over. 

"They probably took them to conceal the evidence," I surmised. "To make it look as though we ran away." 

"But that doesn't make any sense," Rhiannon protested. "Why the hell would we run away?" 

"Of course it makes sense," I replied matter-of-factly. Trust Rhiannon not to understand logic. "If they'd left our bags, everyone in the camp would know we'd been kidnapped." 

"But it doesn't make sense," Rhiannon reiterated. "Glorfy and Gilly know full well that we wouldn't run away - not after what happened the last time we encountered them - so what possible reason would they have for taking our odd assortment of junk with us?" 

Rolling my eyes and giving up on explaining the obvious to my rather thick- headed Elvish sister, I opened up my pack and then held it away from my face. "Nasty!" I gagged. "I'd forgotten about the pineapple." 

"Apparently," Rhiannon added dryly, as the stench of rotting tropical fruit came at her suddenly from my open backpack. "Your 'odd undergarments' are going to smell quite bad for some time." 

I wasn't so troubled by the smell, I was just glad it hadn't rotted to the point that juice was going everywhere. Rhiannon grinned suddenly, her face lighting up as it does when she's come up with another hare-brained idea. 

"Think we should shove rotten pineapple all over Dumbass' face?" 

"More than likely, but...I think we should save it." 

Rhiannon stared at me. "What? You actually want to keep that thing? It reeks more than the Bog of Eternal Stench!" 

I frowned, something, some instinct told me we were going to need it later. "I honestly don't know," I said at last. "I've just got a feeling we're going to need it." 

Rhiannon shrugged. "Whatever then. But it's staying in your pack." 

"Okay," I agreed and handed her the other pack. Rhiannon accepted it from my grasp then went back over to the tied up men of Isildur to deliver her last statement. 

"Well," she said cheerfully to the infuriated stares of the idiot soldiers of Gondor, "it was fun while it lasted, but, well, we have a camp and some hot Elves to be getting back to, not to mention some serious Orc ass to kick. So we'll be seeing 'ya around!" 

I smiled with good-humour, only slightly guilty that we were leaving them there bound and unarmed. Rhiannon and I took our pick of the horses and left, our laughter high and merry.  
  


Naturally we talked as we rode back the way we had come, Rhiannon eager to find out what had happened to me whilst she'd been out walking and I wanting to know when and how they'd found her. Apparently they'd lied in wait, expecting her to come back to her tent, which she had. I was rather glad of that, though I know it sounds terrible when I say it like that. But if Rhiannon hadn't been caught, I likely would have had to make this journey with the men alone, and I wouldn't have been able to muster the courage to escape or continue to hold my head high.

Funny that, for all I speak exasperatedly over Rhiannon's reckless behaviour, she inspires me to do things that I normally wouldn't have the guts to do. Of course, I wasn't going to let her know that. The wind brought us evidence that we were getting closer to the Dead Marshes, and everything started looking up for us.

Right up until the sound of orcs came to our sensitive Elven ears. The horses went berserk, which was badly timed for us. Thrown into the air, Rhiannon landed awkwardly on the ground, which couldn't be good for her large collection of bruises, as I managed to slid off the saddle to ones side and roll out of the way of the horse's hooves. The instinct from before was back, and I knew just what to do. I pulled the mushy pineapple from my pack and lobbed it at the ugliest looking Orc.

"Fiona?" Rhiannon called, pain evident in her voice.

I watched satisfactorily as the pineapple splattered all over the Orc's face. 

"Still alive!" I yelled back, swinging my pack off my back. "For now," I added as the orcs rushed us.

I reached down for the coconut and was about to throw it when it was snatched from my hand. Thinking it was an Orc, I turned around swiftly and irritably snatched it back off Rhiannon.

"Let me!" she yelled, trying to take the fruit back off me.

"No way!" I replied, lifting the coconut up out of her reach. Throwing a hard-shelled fruit at the orcs would be so much more satisfying then a mushy pineapple. There was no way I was letting her have this one! "This one's mine!"

"But you got the pineapple!" Rhiannon whined.

It was then that we noticed that our few second lapse of concentration on the important things had hand, meant that we were now surrounded by orcs.

"Nice going," I scowled, glaring at my Elvish sister who at least had the decency to look sort of guilty.


	19. Smelly Arms and Elves in Shining Armor

            I don't like it when my sleep is interrupted.  I tend to get very annoyed, once I realize what's happening, and, as such, I tend to bite.  Well, only if I'm scared.

            The person who grabbed me found this out rather fast.  My brain went from sleep, to barely awake, to thinking it might be Glorfy, to realizing that someone with a beard was close to my face (and his breath _reeked_), to panic mode, to lashing out with teeth as a hand came close to my face to gag me – all in a matter of seconds.  I didn't think to scream, of course, but then, I've never been one for rational thought in a surprising situation.

            Thankfully I missed this guy's arm.  My Sensei always told me that biting someone is an option that is _always_ last choice.  You never know where the idiot you're biting has been, or whether or not he's got nasty diseases of the type I warned Gilly and Glorfy about.  Not only that, but, from what this guy smelled like, I'm betting he hadn't even had a sponge bath since the war started.  I don't want tongue fungus.

            My back hurt as I rolled over on to it and kicked with my tethered feet.  They connected with an exposed stomach and the smelly, butt-faced monkey above me grunted and doubled over.  But then retaliated with a back fist to my head that left me reeling and sick to my stomach.

            And as limp as a rag doll.  Whoever this ass is, he knew how to take a struggling prisoner down.  I didn't protest much as I was manhandled onto the back of a horse.  There wasn't any way that I could.  Not only was I hog-tied and gagged, but also they'd probably given me a concussion.  I really don't think I should have been moved at all, but, then, stupid idiot kidnappers in the night never think of their prisoner's safety.  

            In fact, I don't think those scum-sucking bottom dwellers had ever come across women before, at least, any woman stupid enough to let one of them near enough to determine the difference between girls and boys.  I dimly realized this when I noticed that they weren't making any effort to avoid, shall we say, 'delicate areas'.

            'Areas off limits', is more like it.  Oooo…If I'd been in fighting form, their 'delicate areas' would have been mangled and mashed to a bloody pulp with the pike end of a bloody damn rock hammer!  Or an ice pick!  Or…oooo…freshly smelted steel…   

            I nearly threw up when the horse galloped away.  This was no where near as smooth a ride as my gallop on Minras had been – largely because a horse that beautiful and intelligent wouldn't have been standing for this – and combined with my upset stomach and swimming head, these idiots were asking for spewing session.  They used no torches, whoever these smelly Men were, so I couldn't see anything, but on occasion the shine of moonlight off the horse's hooves.  I fought to keep awake incase they tried something other than feeling me up.  As much as I dreaded what could happen, I wanted to remember each and every moment so I could take it out on them later.  So, in order to remain awake I entertained myself with counting the number of ways that Glorfindel was going to kick their asses, and – of course – how I was going to help.  I'd reached thirty-seven by the time they dumped me on the ground.  

            I didn't get any further.  Darkness came up and pulled me back down, and it was more welcome than I expected.

            "Rhiannon!"  Was someone calling me?  "Rhiannon wake up!"

            Okay…take stock now.  Legs?  Check.  Arms? Check.  Can I move them?  No.  Brain obviously working, much as I'd rather it wasn't…bloody lot of pain behind skull?  Check.  Now…open your eyes, Rhiannon…

            I wish I never had.  

            You know how the classic description of a headache of epic proportions is 'pain flashed behind her eyes' or 'lanced through her skull' or whathaveyou?  Well, they're classic because they're _true_.  After the initial flashing of pain, it quickly felt like someone was driving a sharp stake over and over again into one spot on the left side of my head.  It _hurt_.

            "Rhiannon!  Thank goodness you're alright!"  A face gradually came into focus, hovering right above me.

            "Fiona?"  I tried blinking, but she was still fuzzy around the edges.  "What the bloody fark happened?"  Gag?  Apparently not.  It must have been removed.

She didn't get to say anything.  Someone else was talking

"Such an interesting saying you have there."  Don't I know that voice?  I've heard it before…  "No wonder you two are such a distraction.  And we cannot be having with such distractions."

Okay…think.  I know it hurts, but do it anyway.  Where…?  Oh…_shit_.

"Isildur?"  Oh boy.  Glorfy is going to have his winged hat on a _mithril_ platter.  (Sorry…I read that line about the platter in a fanfic back when I was alive, and I've always wanted to use it somewhere…it just fits on so many levels!)  And Isildur's stupid fat head would likely still be in the hat.  I considered letting loose some of my more…descriptive…words, but decided against it.  "What do you want?"

"To get you two out of here so we can concentrate on winning this war," the dumbass replied.  He seemed sad.  "I am sorry," he continued, "for the treatment you have received at the hands of my men.  I will see to it that they are punished."

"Sorry my ass," I spat and winced as pain in my skull increased.  

"If you didn't want us to be harmed," Fiona snarled, "you shouldn't have sent those hooligans!"  

"I gave the matter to Captain Dúmassë to handle," Isildur said with a frown.  He shook his head.   "It makes no matter, for I am still responsible for your keeping."

He bent over and I saw the knife in his hand.  A moment later and I could move my hands and feet again.  I rolled over and tried to sit up.  Fiona, hands and feet newly free herself, helped.

I nearly fell over again.  I was dizzy and felt sick and quite sure that I had a lovely black bruise on my face to match the healing one on my back.  If it hadn't been for Fiona's hands holding me upright, I would have likely passed out again.  I wondered if my cheekbone had been cracked, but it was only a passing thought.

"Ereinion is going to have your head for this," Fiona said darkly.  Go her!  She can be quite spunky too, when she needs to be.  Have I ever mentioned that I don't _ever_ want to be on the receiving end of her temper?  Well, if I haven't, let the record stand as such.  

"The High King will likely thank me for removing his distractions," Isildur countered.  Somehow, I doubted this.  I know Gilly's jealousy is a pain in the ass, but it has its uses and advantages.  One of them being a great deal of protectiveness; almost 'over protectiveness', but…   

I'd had my doubts because of his reaction to the Chocolate Incident, but I'm pretty sure the Gil-galad loves my sister with every ounce of his being.  Thinking on it, I saw the look in his eyes as he watched her tell her story earlier in the dining pavilion…he may admit to Fiona being a 'distraction', but he sure as all hell wouldn't send us away.  At least, not like this.  

If _he_ had ordered this, he would have gone about it by first of all: telling us, second of all: telling us again, only more firmly and leaving no option for debate (of which there would be a lot), and third of all: assigning several guards (that wouldn't hurt us) to 'escort' us, because he'd know full well that we'd just escape and boot ass back to the camp first chance we got.

"Where are you going to send us?" Fiona asked.  Her voice didn't shake.  I am quite proud of my twin.    

"To my city, Minas Ithil," Isildur replied.  "For it is closest.  There you will be given the most comfortable of apartments in which to dwell and await the ending of the war."

"Yeah," I muttered to Fiona.  "And become Nazgûl fodder.  No thank you," I added in a louder voice.  "I think we'll take our chances here."

"You do not have a choice in the matter," Isildur said firmly, watching me closely.  I suspect he heard my Nazgûl comment, but he didn't say anything along those lines. "You are to be taken to Minas Ithil as soon as the horses arrive. "

Hah!  He was _giving _us horses?  What an idiot!  Didn't he know that we'd take the first chance to ride our horses back to Gilly's camp and then squeal like stuck pigs?  If he thought us honorable enough that we wouldn't, he was sorely mistaken.

Well, I found out that I was sort of right.  For the ride out of the camp, we had our own horse, yes, but we were bound and gagged again, Fiona behind me on the horse and someone else led the animal.  At a dead gallop through the night, it wasn't long before the camps of the Last Alliance were left behind, and we were off to Minas Ithil.

Dawn was quite beautiful, I must admit, even rising as it did over that stinking land of Mordor, and the most scenery we got to look at was the nasty, horrible and reeking Dead Marshes.  

I'm somewhat confused about the history concerning these nasty, soul-sucking wetlands.  I think, back when I was alive, I read something about them being a direct result of a long and bloody battle fought on the Dagorlad (where the camp is), and where thousands upon thousands died.  I'm pretty sure it was some nasty battle that the Last Alliance fought to get into Mordor, but whenever it was, the amount of death that occurred on that bit of land was so great and terrible that the place was forever stained with sorrow and nothing except the Marshes would ever grow there again.  Now I'm not so sure.

I _do_ know that Oropher led two thirds of his Sindar Elves to death in that reeking place.  Not because he went there deliberately, but because he was driven there…because of something.  I'm suspecting Nazgûl – they're everyone's problems.  I feel a great deal of pity for Thranduil, though.  I often wonder if we got here before that happened, or if it's already too late.  No one's told us yet.

Then, of course, there's the part of LOTR where Gollum's taking Frodo and Sam though the fens…why didn't they just use the road that we're on now?  

Scratch that…they came from Emyn Muil – to get to the road would have meant bypassing the fens all together and going all the way around, down by Ithilien (which they did do eventually, but only after slogging through the Marshes) and…

See?  I _do_ know something about Middle-earth after all!  I think it's because I spent a great deal of time staring at the map at the beginning of the Fellowship when I should have been reading the rest of the _Silmarillion_.  Kind of makes me wonder why it is I'm so farking clueless most of the time.  Oh well…we all have our flashes of brilliance.  I guess I just have a lot of short ones that come at odd times.  

Speaking of brilliance, the colours of the dawn were quite spectacular, more than likely owing to the copious amounts of particulate matter in the air over the mountains, rather than natural beauty.  

As the sun rose over this gray, reeking swamp, I got a better look at our 'guards'.  They were lead by one Captain Dúmassë, with Sergeant Lichmé as his second command and a bunch of bearded dumbasses we'd never met before, although I'm pretty sure one of them is the idiot who tied me up in my sleep.  I couldn't be sure, however.  They all smelled quite foul, and the Marshes didn't help any.

I was not amused.  We galloped quickly through the Marshes with absolutely no stop for food until we got to the other side.  By that time the sun was well on its way back west, and huge clouds were drifting out from over the Mountains that separated us from Mordor.  (I find this to be mildly confusing…unless the land over there is higher than it is here, wouldn't the clouds be stopped by the height of the mountains? Or does that only work for temperate climates?  Maybe it just doesn't rain there, so the clouds are mostly ash, and therefore lighter.  Would that even work?)  

When we finally stopped for a quick bite to eat, I felt like I was going to retch from hunger – I hadn't eaten since midday yesterday – and my head hurt like hell, not to mention I was stiff and sore from riding doubled up with Fiona and with my hands tied in front of me, and gagged too.  The number of ways I was going to enact my revenge jumped to nearly sixty and I hadn't repeated myself yet.

They took our gags off when they pulled us down from the horse.  I had to lean on Fiona at first before I regained my balance.  Still though, these amateurs actually left us ungagged and alone while they went for food and water. 

"Fiona," I began quietly while the others were stuffing their faces and obviously not listening.  "First chance we get, we're out of here."

"Agreed," she whispered back.  "I'm not going to Minas Ithil.  Not with these shit heads."

"Nor am I, if I can help it."  I looked around, hoping that there would be an opportunity to bugger off now.  Unfortunately, Dumbass and Lick-me had other plans.  We were shoved back up on the back of our poor horse after only a few moments respite and after only a few bites of something that used to be bread (I think).  We left at a quick trot.

By now we were moving into rocky country (closer to the mountains, actually), and there were little evergreens everywhere.  I was actually quite glad that the wind was blowing _towards_ the Marshes rather than from them.  Now all I had to worry about was being down wind of the idiots who'd taken us.  Captain Dúmassë was the cleanest one of the lot – meaning, he'd bathed the most recently of all of them.  However much I can't stand that idiot, I wish he'd been holding the reins of the horse Fiona and I were on.  The man who held them was unfortunately upwind.  

I held onto hope, however, that someone had realized our suspicious absence and was coming rescue our sorry asses.  I don't think the Men heard the horns on the wind.         

There's nothing like revenge.  The immense satisfaction of seeing your 'guards' tied to several thorny trees with gags in their mouths made out of their own shirts, and ties from their trousers, so all they had on were their small clothes, and their weapons and armor just tantalizingly out of reach…there's just nothing quite like it.  

I suppose you're wondering how we did it?  Well, it involves a certain dumbass captain – who I won't name – leaving his very sharp knife close enough that one of us could grab it without being noticed and then each proceed to cut the other's bonds – and an Elven stealth that one can only really appreciate if one is an Elf, as I learned that night.

We had stopped after riding for some time into the night – I think about midnight, which blows terribly.  Have you ever tried to sleep in a saddle?  Well, I found out the hard way that you can't.  I leaned forward to give Fiona somewhere to put her head after her back got stiff, but she wouldn't do that often, on account of the still-present bruise on my shoulders.  And because, well, she's proud.  Meaning she'd be damned if she was going to let herself show weakness to this band of apes while she could still keep her head up.  

Don't let her shy and modest exterior confuse you – Fiona is not a woman to be trifled with.  When she gets pissed, she gets _pissed_, and when she refuses to show weakness, she carries herself with a dignity that would rival a queen's.  

I'd given up on not showing weakness the seventh time I nearly fell off the animal's back.  A horse's trot has never been the most gentle of gaits, and when your head and back are throbbing, and you're weak from hunger and dizzy and sick, it's pure hell.        

When we finally stopped for the night, I thought I was going to pass out, but I hung on to consciousness when I heard the men talking about rabbits.  Food!  Two moved off into the night and returned with a few dead bunnies.  I faced the other way as they were skinned and dressed (and nearly puked once or twice…I've always found that sort of thought to be horrendously disgusting) but found a renewed appetite (or a reawakened one) when the bunnies started to cook.  Food of any description at that point would have done, regardless of how I fell about killing animals, and I held off sleeping until a whole cooked rabbit was shoved towards Fiona and I to share.

We hadn't spoken for some time up until this point, and we didn't after we got our food, on account of having our mouths full of burning rabbit-meat.  I don't think I've ever tasted anything quite so good, even though there was a pile of innards on the ground that I pointedly ignored.  Not only was I stuffing my face, but I had noticed that the Captain that I will not name (although, if you don't know who it is by now, then you're truly dense) had stuck his knife into the dirt close enough that he could grab it if he had to, but otherwise, the damn thing was just there.  I looked over to Fiona in what I hoped was a discreet manner, and saw that she had spotted the bright, shiny knife too.  The bare bones of a plan were starting to come together in my head, and I wondered if it would work.  After freeing ourselves, I had no idea what we could do, but I didn't get much chance to think of it.

"Get some rest," Dúmassë growled at us as he stretched out beside the fire.  "And don't bother trying to escape.  You won't get far, or survive for long."

"Why the hell did you tie our hands together then, Dumbass?" I snarled around mouthfuls of rabbit.  One of the hairy butt-faced monkeys smirked as he handed me a water skin. I guess he'd never seen a hungry woman before.  I looked at it suspiciously before pointedly wiping off the spout with a corner of my shirt.  I took a swig and passed it to Fiona, wiping my face with my bound hands.  

"I prefer not to risk the lives of my men for silly women who will not listen to reason and who will insist upon heading for the hills at any moment despite the innate futility of their actions."

"You could always let us return to the camp," Fiona spoke up, her quiet voice cutting through the resulting laughter of Dumbass' little comment.  

"We have our orders," Lick-me put in.  "You are to be taken to Minas Ithil and kept out of the way of the Elvish King and his Lieutenant, the Lord Glorfindel. Although I understand how you two could be 'distractions', I do not see what either of them find attractive in you."  He shifted uncomfortably under the ensuing stare that we two subjected him to.  I would say it was vaguely reminiscent of the way a cat will stare at someone without blinking until they get uneasy and look away.  

It worked.  We didn't have to say a thing.  Lick-me cleared his throat and looked away.

The Men joked amongst themselves for a while as we continued to shove our faces full of rabbit and watch them wearily over the fire.  They spoke mostly in a language that sounded a great deal like Old English.  If I hadn't been in pain and tied up, I wouldn't have minded listening and making an attempt to decipher what it was they were saying.  As it was, I could barely keep my eyes open.  But I didn't dare sleep: sleep + head wound = not a good idea.

The soldiers dropped off to sleep quite soon after that, leaving Fiona and I to our own devices.  Of course, they posted sentries, but still – remember the one inept guard?  Well, now it was two inept guards, and they were both as incompetent as each other.  I would have thought that two negatives made a positive, but…well, they apparently didn't figure that two Elf women would be any problem.  I guess they'd never heard of us or of our antics, which rather surprised me, considering the public displays of our stupidity.

It was while our 'guards' were looking away that Fiona managed to snark the Nameless Captain's knife (which he had left out after eating his own rabbit for some reason that I'll never know) and cut through her own bonds before starting on mine.  She was able to do this largely because the idiots had tied our hands in front of us, rather than behind, and had left our ankles free.   So we were quite quickly loose, and after that, simply waited for the right moment.  It came when the dumbasses that were supposed to be guarding us fell asleep.  

This lot was begging for an Orc attack.  So, in an effort of good faith, and to show that we were actually quite good natured and easy to get along with, we decided that we were going to make sure that they were ready for one, and then be a good distance away when it came.  

"Cut their clothes off!" I whispered as softly as I could. 

"Ye gods!" Fiona answered in the same tone of voice.  "What for?"

"Because we don't have enough rope."

I saw her eyes light up in the dark.  They sparkled with moonlight.  "Right."  With the Captain's knife, she began to cut the buckles on all the armor, and the cloth underneath while I went around and disarmed them. Elvish stealth comes in very handy for this sort of thing, even when one has a horribly nasty headache. If Fiona and I had still been human, I'm sure we wouldn't have been able to pull this off, but we had them disarmed, bound and gagged and tied to a thorny tree before they fully realized what was happening.

The knots finished, I stood a good distance away from the lot and sniggered at their attempts to come at me, though I resisted for a time the urge to tease them into serious anger.  Never know what pissed off Gondorian soldiers can do.  I've seen 'em fight, but…damn, they are stupid.  Fiona shook her head at the lot, moved off and started searching through the saddlebags for anything that we might be able to use.  

"Hey Rhiannon!" she called out.  I looked over.  "I found our backpacks!"

"What the hell are they doing here?" I wondered, moving over to where Fiona stood next to the horses.

"They probably took them to conceal the evidence," she mused after a moment.  "To make it look as though we ran away."

"But that doesn't make any sense," I protested.  "Why the hell would we run away?"

"Of course it makes sense," Fiona replied.  "If they'd left our bags, everyone in the camp would know we'd been kidnapped."

"But it doesn't make sense," I reiterated, wondering just exactly what Fiona was talking about.  "Glorfy and Gilly know full well that we wouldn't run away – not after what happened the last time we encountered them – so what possible reason would they have for taking our odd assortment of junk with us?"

As I spoke, Fiona opened up her pack and then held it away from her face.  

"Nasty!" she remarked.  "I'd forgotten about the pineapple."

"Apparently," I added dryly as the stench of rotting tropical fruit came at me suddenly from her open backpack.  "Your 'odd undergarments' are going to smell quite bad for some time."

She glared at me, and looked towards the bound and gagged soldiers of Gondor.  I decided that it would be wise for me to just shut up on that point – I was already wounded, after all.  No sense in inciting the Wrath of Fiona.  I grinned suddenly, though, an idea coming to me.  "Think we should shove rotten pineapple all over Dumbass' face?"

"More than likely, but…I think we should save it."

I stared at her.  "What?  You actually want to _keep_ that thing?  It reeks more than the Bog of Eternal Stench!"

She frowned, dismissing my reference to _Labyrinth_.  "I honestly don't know," she said.  "I've just got a feeling we're going to need it."

I shrugged.  "Whatever then," I conceded.  "But it's staying in your pack." 

"Okay," she agreed, and handed me my own pack.  I slung it on my back and went back over to the tied up Hermes look-a-likes.  Fiona came over to stand next to me, while I delivered my last statement. 

"Well," I said cheerfully to the infuriated stares of the idiot soldiers of Gondor, "it was fun while it lasted, but, well, we have a camp and some hot Elves to be getting back to, not to mention some serious Orc ass to kick.  So we'll be seeing 'ya around!"

Fe and I took our pick of the horses and left, our laughter high and merry.

            "So how did you get captured?" I asked Fiona as we trotted quite cheerfully back in the direction that we'd come from.  The moon was up and shining clearly, and even with the faint reek of the Dead Marshes drifting towards us, things were looking up.    

            "Nabbed in my sleep," she answered.  "They gagged me first so I wouldn't scream and then started to ask where you – the 'short one' – had gone.  One of them even had the gall to say you'd gone off with 'that prissy Elf'."

            I contemplated it.  I really did.  Suddenly, our revenge didn't seem anywhere near as fulfilling as it had a moment a go, and it took a real amount of will power not to turn right around and go have some more fun with the idiots.

            "Rhiannon?" Fiona asked.  I guess she was getting worried about me.  I heaved a sigh.  

            "It's alright," I said.  "I'm not going to go kick their asses.  We've already got our revenge.  No need to get all angry again.  Nope.  No reason at all."  I bit off the bout of curses that was threatening to come to the surface and blow our good moods completely.  Still…I couldn't resist a muttered 'bloody stupid shit heads'.  No one gets off without some form of curse when they say my Elf is 'prissy'.  Most of those idiots wouldn't know nobility if it bit them six times on the ass, chased them off a cliff and then danced on their bloody corpse at the bottom of the ravine.    

            "How did they get you?" Fiona asked.  I was thankful for the distraction, since I knew I wasn't going to get a chance to go back and play some more.  

            "Got me right after I got in from my walk.  Nearly bit whoever it was."  I was suddenly cheerful at the memory.

"Why didn't you?"

"Didn't want some sort of nasty disease.  I don't think that ape had washed in…well, since his mother last gave him a bath."

"Yuk!"

"I know!  And I'm not even sure if his _mother_ bathed him!  It's disgusting!  These idiots go on about how their honor is everything and blah, blah, blah, but then they don't bathe.  They're walking contradictions!  Had a nice chat with Elrond just before, though."

            "He actually spoke to you?"  She sounded skeptical.  

            "I know.  Seems he's forgiven us as soon as Gilly did.  Said that the 'king's word was enough for him' or something."

            Fiona raised her eyebrows.  "Good.  I feel a great deal better about that than I did."

            "Me too," I agreed.  "It was fun though.  I'm not going to say otherwise."

            "Yes, I know, Ms. Hormone," Fiona replied teasingly.

            "Hey," I said indignantly, blushing.  "I'm not _that_ bad.  At least my Elf-drooling is confined to Glorfy now."

            Eyebrow raised, all she had to do was look at me.

            "Well," I began, face now a bright red.  "There are one or two that are…pretty cute."

            Her face didn't twitch.

            "Really cute," I amended.

            Silence, came the swift reply.

            "Fine then!" I yelled. "Damn hot!"

            She broke down into giggles and I had to join her.  Our laughter carried around us even as the rot of the Dead Marshes drifted on the wind towards us.  

It was at that point that the Orcs attacked.  

In the name of all things holy, you'd think we would have noticed that we made lovely targets!  Two unarmed Elf-maidens on a couple of horses, trotting a long and making a great deal of noise...even an Orc could have picked up on that.  But we were so caught up in our triumphant escape from Dumbass' clutches and our Elf drooling that we hadn't even noticed their smell.  

Rather, we had.  We'd just figured that was the Dead Marshes and that we were closer to the camp than we'd thought previously.  

There was nothing we could do except run, which is precisely what we did.  Horses don't like Orcs very much, just like pretty much anything sane, so they took off at a rampant gallop down the road at the appearance of the first one.  

Of course, these being battle horses, they also kicked the crap out of anything Orcish that came near and still managed to do so even with us clinging to their backs.  When we finally managed to get up speed, I thought that we'd be safe, for the time being.  This hope got dashed, however, when I found myself lying on my back, unable to breathe – and looking up at the greasy, manic faces of an Orc horde.  

"Fiona?" I called out.  God_damn_ that had hurt!  Not as much as the Mack truck, mind, but hitting the ground at high speeds hurts no matter how you do it, and being dragged off the back of a horse is just one way to find out just how much it does hurt.

The first indication that she was alright came in the form of a rather mushy pineapple sailing through the air and bursting all over an Orc.  It squealed as it wiped the unexpected mush off its face.  

"Still alive!" she coughed back.  "For now," she added.  

I dragged myself to my feet and hoofed one of the Orcs in what I hoped was its genitalia.  It doubled over and I pushed it out of the way before it could wave its scimitar at me.  I made it to her side, just as she pulled the coconut from her bag.  

"Let me!" I yelled, making a grab for the fruit.

"No way!" she retorted, trying to get the coconut out of my reach.  "This one's mine!"

"But you got the pineapple!" I yelled back.  

We didn't get to argue any more; Orcs kicked our feet out from under us and we landed hard on the ground.

"Nice going!" Fiona fumed, ignoring for a moment our imminent death.  "I could have seriously wounded one of them if _you_ had just let me throw the damn coconut!"

I bit back my repeated retort of 'but you got the pineapple' because Fiona screamed as one grabbed her by the hair and forced her to stand.  

"Let her go, you god-be-damned bunyips!" I yelled instead, trying to stand myself.  It was slow going – I found scimitars pointed at me, ready to skewer me if I tried anything.  I looked over to Fiona, but I could see by the light of the moon that she fared no better. 

A greasy hand pulled me roughly to my feet and shoved me towards Fiona.  We collided and nearly fell again, but managed to stay standing.  I realized suddenly that what I had thought had been some sort of grunting was actually their language – they were speaking the Black Tongue.  I never really realized how ugly that language was.   

I had thought for an instant that they would have bound our hands together, but they had a better option.  Collars - with small spikes on the inside, to discourage tugging.  Well, to discourage _us_ from tugging.  They didn't seem to have any problems with doing it themselves.  

They kept us on short leashes, made of iron links.  Crudely made links, but they were heavy and dragged the collar down.  Small streams of blood trickled down my shoulders, but there was nothing I could do about them.  Or the matching ones that trickled down Fiona's shoulders.  They seemed to find delight every time we fell and caused more blood to run down our necks.  I wondered if I could get tetanus now that I was an Elf, or if I was exempt and wouldn't have to worry about shots ever again. 

I realized grimly that needles were likely going to be the least of my worries.  Orcs hate Elves, and we were now Elves.  What it is they do to the female Elves they capture…well, I know it sent Celebrían over the emotional edge.  I don't care to experience anything like it.  

WANTED:  SWF Elf seeks tall, golden haired Elf to kick the living shit out of some Orcs and get her and her sister's sorry ass out of danger before something so nasty happens that she won't forget it for the rest of eternity.  

Wouldn't that just make a wonderful add in the classified section!  It's a pity there's a) no way to get an add in from here, and b) no news papers.  Although, really, it's not quite so much a pity, because all those trees won't be used just so some stupid company can tell us what to think through the media.  

Whatever.  Isn't it odd the sorts of things that go through your mind when you've been kidnapped by Orcs?  You'd think I'd be too scared shitless to think, but…well, I was too scared to think _rationally_.  That doesn't mean I'm not going to think _irrationally_.  

I don't know for how long we were marched stumbling and tripping over rocky terrain – but that march brought me out of my stupid thoughts right quick...those collars _hurt_ – until the sun rose, but the dawn was gray in the sky over Mordor again when the wind brought us the far-off sounds of horns once more.  I wondered if they were hunting horns, or horns of battle, but only in passing.  I was too busy trying to keep my footing in the increasingly rocky terrain, and trying to keep near Fiona incase the Orcs tried anything, and trying to keep from slitting my own throat or choking myself.  We were driven quickly, heading for the Mountains of Mordor and further from the road.  

Not long after the sun rose completely, hungry and tired, we were shoved roughly to the ground in a small hollow, sheltered from the sun by trees and a rock overhang that formed a rough cave where the Orcs could hide during the day and not have to put up with the sunlight.  Wind brought the horns again, closer than before but still far enough away that I don't think the Orcs heard them, or understood if they did.  

We ended up chained to a scrubby little tree, and the Orcs backed off to taunt and jeer and laugh manically whenever we showed any sort of reaction.  And a couple of them could speak our language.

"We should have them now!" One snarled.  I backed away from it, keeping Fiona behind me.    

"No!  Master said to bring any pretties to him!"

"He's not going to like the little one – she's already damaged." The first Orc whined.  I guess it meant the bruise on my face, although I was interested to know why it didn't consider what the collars had done to our necks as 'damage'.  "Let me have her!" the creature snarled.  A grubby paw with talons reached out.  Fiona was faster in kicking it away.

"Thanks," I whispered, even as the Orcs argued back and forth about whether or not they should 'have' me.  The very thought disgusted me to my very soul.  But if it could keep them distracted long enough to get Fiona out…    

"No problem," Fiona replied in the same tone.  

The Orcs fell back to their original taunting, mostly in their own Black Tongue.  I slumped against the tree we were chained to and ignored the jeers, except when any grubby little fingers got too close to either Fiona or myself.  Their efforts were usually rewarded with a kick to the closest exposed area of Orc flesh we could reach.    

  I seriously wanted to sleep – I hadn't for the longest time and it was beginning to affect my brain.  I had time to think of an escape plan, but I couldn't – my head hurt.  Not even my stupid thoughts of before made it through the pain.  I stopped trying to concentrate on my thoughts after the rueful admission that these Orcs were, unfortunately, more skilled at kidnapping than Isildur's men had ever been, even if they smelled worse than the Men and I had questions about how inbred the lot of them were.  Darkness hovered deliciously close, but then Fiona was talking, so I couldn't sleep just yet.

"Rhiannon," she whispered.  Most of the Orcs had forgotten we were there, and had begun fighting – and killing – one another over the best spots to hide from the sun.  I don't know if these creatures sleep, but it wouldn't surprise me if they didn't.  

I grunted a response.  It was the best I could manage.

"Ereinion and Glorfy are coming for us."

"How do you know?" I mumbled, a little more awake.  

"Listen."

So I listened.  First, the grunting and snorting and shouting Orcs.  Past them, the total silence in the evergreens (I think it was the presence of the Orcs that did that), wind in branches and… Feet?  Breathing?  Whispered orders in a beautiful tongue… 

            Suddenly happy and much more awake, I looked to Fiona and tried to keep the grin off my face.  "Thank all things holy and sacred!" I whispered back.  "How close do you think they are?"

"I don't know.  These new ears of mine take some getting used to."

"You're telling me," I muttered.  "I'm just glad we haven't been raped."

"That's probably because it was so close to sunrise when they got us," Fiona answered.  "Although, the time between felt like a small eternity."

"In hell too," I added.  I started trying to wedge my hands under the collar, but to no avail.  I tried sneaking a peek or two at Fiona's, to see how they worked, but some stupid Orc noticed what I was doing and pulled on my chain, and down I went.  I restrained my desire to rush him – it would only have resulted in some serious neck injuries.  Instead, I gave it a death glare and crawled back over to Fiona and crouched next to her.  "I am going to cut its head off and gut it with a herring," I muttered darkly, wincing as the movement of my neck hurt both my nasty bruises and the numerous cuts along my neck from the collar.  I refuse to give these vile creatures any sort of personal pronoun beyond 'it'.

"Patience," Fiona murmured.  "When Ereinion and Glorfindel come, you'll likely get a sword."

"Swords are too quick," I growled.  She nodded in agreement. 

It turns out that our rescue party didn't bring swords.  Well, some of them had, but I didn't notice at first.  Swords are a little harder to use in forests on account of all the trees.  

Fiona and I had lapsed again into silence, watching the Orcs warily as they ate their own dead (dead from their own fighting too, the sick bastards), a sight most disgusting, if you ask me.  After a horrible moment in which morbid fascination would not release me, I looked away and tried to block their noisy chewing out of my head.  That was why I missed the first arrow hit its target – but I heard it, and recognized the horrible noise it made when it struck home.  

I looked up and around quickly as an Orc keeled over, only to hear another arrow loosed and another Orc dropped to the ground, an arm of its comrade still in its mouth, feathers protruding from its eye.

All at once, there were Elves and Men everywhere, killing Orcs, shouting and cursing and flailing swords.  Arrows came from the trees, and then…

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  I've never seen a more beautiful site than Glorfindel the Golden, glowing in the early morning sunlight.  Well, maybe Glorfy standing in full sunlight.  Or perhaps the Glorfy-vision presented to me the night before last, when he was sitting in the lantern light.  And then there was that night we rode together on Minras' back, after our first escape, and the absolutely glorious spectacle he made riding through the our first battle towards me to save my sorry arse from death…

Okay.  Can we just agree that Glorfindel is _damn farking hot?_  The point of that little bit of musing was that the sight of Glorfy is a sight worthy of my female self.  And I loved every moment of it, made sweeter, of course, by what we'd just gone through.  

            So much sweeter that I watched our rescue party kick some serious Orc ass, whooping and yelling and cursing, through a haze of relief that made my eyelids droop and my knees turn to jelly.  I sank to the base of our tree and glanced sluggishly over at Fiona – she had her eyes on Gilly, of course, and I spared a glance to see what the Elf King was up to before turning back to my own beloved.  Gil-galad was slicing through Orcs with a deadly calm, only a slight hint of cold fury in his features.  He still moved like a cat.  Fiona's eyes tracked his movements as I turned back to Glorfy and the glinting of his golden hair in the sunlight.    

            Nearly as fast as it began, all the Orcs were dead and the Elves were panting in the little hollow.  Still horribly sluggish, I turned back to Fiona to make sure she was okay, but I didn't get a chance to utter any words, and neither did she.

 "Minaimîr," Glorfy spoke behind me.  He sounded relieved, and my own relief heightened.  Sounds seemed to come from further away than before, and I could almost feel the darkness that had been waiting for me all this time on my back doorstep.  We could go back to the camp now!  Go back and I could get some well-needed sleep... Glorfindel stood close and the Orcs were dead and I could finally get this god-be-damned collar off…  

I turned around and looked at him, saw the Orc blood staining his armor and his sword, and his brilliant golden hair plastered to his head with sweat.  I noted in passing that it was rather odd that his sweat didn't make him look dirty or greasy, but the thought passed as he moved quickly towards me.  I managed a smile, but it was small one.  I resisted the urge to greet him with 'Yo!  What took you so long?'  

 "_Melyanna,_ are you –" He froze mid sentence.  I actually shrank back against the tree as he practically flew the rest of the distance between us.  Gently, he turned my head to the side, his fingers cool against the swelling of my face.  "I am glad that I have found you, _mel nîn,_" he whispered.  I noticed that Gilly was coming for Fiona.  She looked about ready to pass out, and was regarding him with the strangest expression.  She looked like she was talking to him.  What the fark?  "I am glad too that the Orcs that did this to you have perished."  He was taking the collar off as he spoke and gasped when he saw the state of my skin underneath.  I didn't want to look, and couldn't, but still…

I tried to stand, but didn't get very far.  I couldn't even speak my relief was so great.  He scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing – which I know isn't true – and carried me back towards where he had left the white vision of Minras and away from the results of the carnage.

"I am never letting you out of my sight again, Minaimîr," he murmured as he held me close.  Never have I been so glad to hear a voice!  I fought to keep my eyes open – that need to sleep was overly pressing, and now that I knew that Fiona and I were safe…

"I don't plan on leaving again," I managed.  I buried the undamaged side of my face against his chest.  "Just don't let any of those stupid smelly Men near me – I might kill them."

"Men?" Glorfindel asked quickly.  "What men?"

I pulled back a little to look up at his face.  "The ones who took us from our tent.  You didn't know?"  I continued when he didn't answer immediately.  "They got Fiona first and then came back for me after I went for a walk.  Some smelly bastard almost got his arm bitten, and then he decided a back-fist would make a meek woman out of me."  I gestured weakly at my face.  "It worked – I haven't been able to stand properly since, although that might also be hunger."

His voice, when he spoke, was devoid of everything except anger.  Yet another person to add to the list of people I intend to stay on the good side of.  

            "Who did this to you?" He asked.  'Cold fury' doesn't cover it.  

            "Dunno," I answered slowly, suddenly wary.  "Didn't see his face – it was dark.  But he sure did smell awful."  I didn't tell him that one of them had called him 'prissy'.  I didn't know quite how he would react, and I didn't want to make him any angrier.   

            He opened his mouth, but Glorfy was interrupted before he could ask his next question.  

"Where are my men?"  I looked around at Isildur, noting him for the first time.  Why the hell had he come?  To cement his alibi?  There was really no other reason for his presence – we weren't supposed to have disappeared from his camp.  I didn't bother to keep the belligerent, smug satisfaction I felt out of my voice as I answered him, though.  In my mind, he didn't deserve politeness.

            "Tied up by their own clothes a while down the road," I said, gesturing back towards where we had come from.  "You might want to get there before any Orcs do."  

            Isildur didn't hesitate.  He gathered his Hermes-lings with a shout and they rode off into the bushes, without so much as a 'by-your-leave' thrown in the direction of Gil-galad.  I also noticed that Gil-galad himself hadn't been paying attention to anything that didn't have the name Anórmír.  The High King therefore missed Isildur and his minions galloping off through the trees towards where we'd left the road, and likely then on to Captain Dumbass and his sidekick Lick-me and their band of hooligans.

            Isildur and his men gone, I slumped again against Glorfy's shoulder.


	20. The Nature of Elves

A/N: I know, I know.it's taken me far too long to update this. But this last semester at uni has been a bugger of a one. I've been writing this chapter for several months (slowly though it went) and my co-author BoL can testify to that. I've made it as long as I dare, lest I take all the fun out of it for my co-author.  
  
So enjoy!  
  
My apologies about the formatting! It's terrible, but I can't seem to fix it- it only makes it worse. **************************************************************************** **  
  
I don't like orcs. They're ugly, they reek, they're disgusting, they're cruel and they have an alarming fetish for Elf-maidens in iron- spiked collars.  
  
Those collars are far more painful than you could ever imagine. It's damned heavy to begin with, so as you are pulled and dragged along, it cuts into your neck and rubs away the skin till everything from your chin to your shoulders is red raw and bleeding. Then there's the fact that if you try to bend your neck to relieve the ache of holding your head high to avoid the sharpened points on the spikes, you end up giving yourself some new bleeding holes in yours cheeks or chin. And then you've got to deal with the cramps that set into your neck and back from the cold and wet.  
  
I don't know how bad I must have looked, but if I was in any state like my Elvish sister, I was reduced to a bloodied and dirty mess. Damn, I wanted a bath. I would have given anything for a hot bath..or even just a rescue party. Is that so much to wish for?  
  
I couldn't even tell how long it had been when they pushed into a small hollow in the ground and chained to stubbly tree that stood there, looking as if it were still deciding whether it wanted to grow there or just die.  
  
There were orcs among our captors that spoke our tongue, though it sent shivers of fear down my spine to hear them speak any language. I didn't really care for their conversations however, until a topic came up that attracted my immediate attention.  
  
"We should have them now!" a particularly ugly whined, sneering at Rhiannon and myself. Naturally, our instincts caused us to back away as much as we could, which wasn't much, given how tightly they'd chained us to that little tree.  
  
"No!" another orc snarled. "Master said to bring any pretties to him!"  
  
"He's not going to like this little one- she's already damaged!"  
  
I failed to see how they could judge Rhiannon to be more 'damaged' than I was, since their treatment of us both had not been the least bit careful. Of course, Rhiannon did have a number of massive bruises that I didn't have, and whilst I hardly wanted to compete with her for the attention of the orcs, I hated the idea that they would find a means to separate and destroy our spirits. I was certainly not going to let these orcs to take me to Sauron.  
  
"Let me have her," the first orc leered, his lust evident his evil yellow eyes as he reached out to grab her leg.  
  
Pissed off beyond all sense, I kicked his hand as hard as I could, gritting my teeth in a combination of uncontrollable fury and fear.  
  
"Thanks," Rhiannon murmured, her eyes portrayed her exhaustion and yet alertness to the situation.  
  
"No probs," I replied quietly as the orcs began arguing amongst themselves.  
  
I'll admit, inside I was on the verge of tears. It seemed so hopeless and help so far away. But I refused to let anything but my disgust and anger for the orcs show on my face. Rhiannon's steadfast determination that had often been my bane now became the strength I clutched onto as a last means to prevent myself from falling into the pit of despair.  
  
It must have been several hours that we'd been sitting there when I felt the briefest touch upon my mind. Anórmír, a welcome voice called as though carried on the wind from a great distance.  
  
Ereinion! I yelled back, desperately wanting him to be able to hear me. But no further replies were forthcoming.  
  
It was sometime while later, after Rhiannon and I had beaten off several attempts of orcs to touch either one of us, as the wind blew softly, that I heard a voice that was distinctly Elvish in its speech.  
  
"Rhiannon," I whispered, keeping an eye on the orcs who were once again arguing amongst themselves.  
  
Her only response came in the form of something that was a cross between a snort and a grunt.  
  
"Ereinion and Glorfindel are coming for us," I said encouragingly. I was worried that she hadn't used words to speak. She was definitely at the limits of exhaustion and I hoped that she would not fall into despair- both for her sake and Glorfindel's and my own. I did not want to be left alone to the attentions of the orcs. I didn't think I'd last without her strong spirit to support me.  
  
She opened her eyes a bit and mumbled, "How do you know?"  
  
"Listen," I urged. I watched as her eyes became distant, her total concentration on listening beyond the orcs. Her face lit up with vast hope and relief.  
  
"Thank all things sacred and holy!" she breathed. "How close do you think they are?"  
  
"I'm not sure. These new ears of mine take some getting used to."  
  
"You're telling me," Rhiannon muttered. "I'm just glad we haven't been raped."  
  
Amen to that, I thought to myself. I leaned back against the small tree once again and sent my thought out, hopefully to Ereinion. My Love? I waited a brief moment before trying again. Ereinion! Rhiannon and I are here! I projected a mental image of the place I saw around me. Again, no reply was forthcoming.  
  
I was aware then of Rhiannon crawling back over, new bruises and cuts on her neck. An orc moved from where she had been before- no doubt she'd had another run in with these evil creatures.  
  
"I am going to cut its head off and gut it with a herring," she growled quietly.  
  
"Patience," I replied softly, trying to soothe her anger so that she wouldn't do anything else foolish. A habit which seemed to be a vital part of Rhiannon's character. "When Ereinion and Glorfindel come, you'll probably get a sword anyway."  
  
"Swords are too quick."  
  
Well, it depends on what you stick the sword into. I imagine that if you shoved it through the genitalia of the male of any species, they'd be willing to contest that time moves too slowly. However, I nodded in agreement with my Elvish sister.  
  
It wasn't long before the rescue party of Elves descended in violent fury upon the orcs. I didn't notice it until I heard the enraged shouts of the Elves, having turned my face from the repulsive cannibalism of the orcs as they ate the loser of whatever the last argument had been. My stomach threatened to reject its meager contents, and I found myself curling up into a ball next to that precious little tree in misery, despite the hope of rescue that was upon us.  
  
When I looked up, hearing the soft 'twang' of Elven bows, I saw Ereinion and several other Elves charging on their horses towards the unprepared orcs. Ereinion's face was mask of cold fury, a look more terrible than I had ever seen on him before. Even his jealous anger didn't match this expression of quiet icy ferocity.  
  
Arrows flew past to lodge within orc targets and the swords of the Elves slaughtered the orcs effortlessly, but I only had eyes for my Ereinion. He came for us, the little voice in my head cried exultantly. But it was not just that he happened to be along at the right moment that excited me, but that he had come personally to lead the rescue. I was sure that Isildur would be having apoplexy right about now; there was no way he couldn't know by now that the High King of the Elves had left the camp of the Last Alliance to come after us.  
  
I noticed that Rhiannon was quivering with excitement as she watched Glorfindel, no less cold and angry than Ereinion.  
  
When the last of the orcs were slain, Ereinion looked up at me and his expression softened as he strolled proudly over.  
"Anórmír," he whispered, gently taking my head in his hands. I smiled up at him through tears of relief. His hands slid down to removed the collar from me neck, releasing me from the captive tree. He pulled me close and I wrapped my arms around him, mindless of the mud and orc blood that covered his gleaming armour. I thought I had lost you for a while there. There was no trace of you or Minaimîr, and all the evidence pointed to that you had run away- a theory that Isildur and several others supported. But it didn't seem right, that you would leave without telling me. I know that you wouldn't do that. His thought flowed inside my head, and the emotions that ran with it also.  
It was Isildur who took us from the camp, I answered solemnly, looking straight into Ereinion's deep eyes. He tightened his hold on me. Isildur believed that we were a distraction to you and Glorfindel. His Men took us from our tent and then we were bound and taken from the camp. They purposed to take us to Minas Ithil 'where we would be safe' but Rhiannon and I got free. Ereinion's face betrayed his anger with Isildur as I continued to tell him of our inadvertent adventure.  
"Come," he said at last, taking the reins of his horse from Gildor. He mounted the reached down around my waist and hauled me up in front of him. He wrapped my arms around him, leaning against him as he gave the order to ride back to the camp of the Last Alliance.  
  
I decided that armour isn't the nicest of garments to cuddle up to for a long ride home, even if the Elf wearing it is Ereinion Gil-galad. It's awkward and hurts to bump One's head against if the horse trots. At the same time, it was reassuring. Ereinion seemed to have this split personality, with me he is Ereinion, a gentle Elf in love; Ereinion wears soft garments that are perfect for snuggling up to. His other side is Gil- galad, High King of the Elves, strong, powerful, majestic; Gil-galad wears armour and other uncomfortable clothes which I'm sure he'd just love to throw aside. Gil-galad is much harder to cuddle. He wants to be Ereinion, but everyone else around him requires him to be Gil-galad, and thus I have to learn to find a way to match this side of him, despite just wanting the rest of the world to vanish and leave me completely alone with him.  
  
I slept a good deal of the way back, awaking only when I bumped my head as mentioned before. When we got back, the first thing I noticed was how close and firm Ereinion was holding me to him. Second thing I noticed, was that we were no longer on a horse. Ereinion paused at the entrance of his personal tent, and one of the guards opened the flap for him, since Ereinion's arms were currently full with carrying me.  
  
I confess - I enjoyed it immensely. But what girl wouldn't? The Elf of her dreams carrying her into his tent as though she were weightless.*dreamy sigh*  
  
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he smiled down at me as he strolled into the main section of his tent. I gasped in delight when I saw that a bath tub filled with hot water was waiting there.  
Ereinion chuckled and let me to my feet. "I must inevitably be called away to catch up the news of these past few days that I have been absent, not to mention the army that I am meant to command. I had hoped you would forgive me, and stay here whilst I am gone, if I gave you incentive to do so."  
I glanced back at him, grinning. "I can assure you, you will not find me anywhere else before nightfall.and even then, I will probably still be here."  
Ereinion kissed me elatedly. "Then I shall leave you to your own devices until I am able to return to you." I watched him as he turned towards the 'door'; he glanced back at me for a moment before departing out of sight. After seeing him leave (just to make sure he didn't try to stay to watch me again), I ran over to the bath, stripping my travel-worn clothes off as I went, stepping into the hot tub and sank down in deep appreciation. Rhiannon had mentioned that there was indeed a bathtub within the camp which she had used earlier whilst she stayed with Glorfindel, though neither of us could figure out why/how it got here, but I could see why she didn't question it further. It was a real treasure in such dark times in this dark place to be able to have a proper hot bath and not just with a sponge and bowl.  
  
I spent a luxurious hour or two washing the blood and grim from my skin and hair, turning the water a very disgusting shade of muddy-black. I stood up in the bath tub, hugging my arms to my bare chest as I searched the room for a towel of some sort. I found Elrond standing just within. His back was facing me, so I shouldn't have been worried, but the notion that he'd been standing there for sometime embarrassed me for some reason.  
"Elrond," I started. "How long have you been standing there?"  
"A while," he admitted. "I was sent to bring you these." He held out a towel, still not turning to look at me. "Are you decent now?"  
Not since the day I was born, I quipped to myself before I quickly wrapped it around my torso. "Yes."  
Elrond turned around, keeping his eyes to my face now. In his arms he held a new set of clean clothes, which I took eagerly. He turned his back to me once more, to give me the opportunity to dress. I dried myself off quickly, looking around for my bag of goodies, since there was no way I was putting dirty underwear back on. I found my bag next to Ereinion's desk, and opened it, shifting through the skimpy, kinky lingerie.when an idea formed in my head.  
There wasn't really any more 'decent' pieces of underwear in my bag, so I settled for just something white. As I pulled the dark blue tunic over my head, I glanced at Elrond, standing patiently still and quiet near the 'door'. I was reminded that Rhiannon had made her peace with him, and it occurred to me that Elrond could be very useful.not to mention I had several questions to ask about the nature of Elves.  
"Elrond?" I said, breaking the silence.  
"Yes?" Elrond enquired, not taking his eyes from the tent wall.  
"Do you think that there might be some time, when Rhiannon and I would be able to talk to you later?" I asked, wondering how to go about it. I swallowed my pride (and good English too, by the sounds of what I ended up saying) and just let my brain stumble over my true meaning. "We've got a few questions we need answered.about Elves, I mean. We're rather unsure about.certain facts. Never having been Elves except for this last couple of weeks, I'm sure you can understand that we've got the impression that we're not very good at being Elves, if you know what I mean."  
Elrond looked over his shoulder at me with a genuine smile. "Yes, Lady Anórmír, I think I do know what you mean. I would be happy to make myself available to talk later this evening with you and your sister."  
I returned his smile, relieved that I didn't have to bumble with further words of explanation. "Do you have any ideas what I'm supposed to do now? I know Ereinion wanted me to stay in his tent, but.there's nothing to do now."  
Elrond strolled over and picked up a comb from the desk, gesturing for me to sit down. "Isildur recently arrived back with his men. There have been some pressing matters that have kept High King Gil-galad and King Elendil from dealing with Isildur, but I do not think it will be much longer before their attentions are free to turn to him." He finished combing my hair, leaving it to dry in its long length along my back, where it already sprang into gentle waves and curls. Elrond pulled me to my feet and looked me straight in the eye. "Whatever wrong Isildur has done, he is needed within the Last Alliance." Elrond's voice seemed urgent in his persuasion and counsel. "If Isildur is disowned, his men will be disheartened, and they will be leaderless- Elendil and Anórien already have enough to deal with within their own commands. They cannot take Isildur's army into their own. Lady, I know Isildur has done nothing to endear himself to you or your sister, but for the sake of the Alliance, will you defend Isildur against Gil-galad's wrath?"  
I saw the desperate fear within Elrond's eyes that if Isildur was cast out, the Alliance would be all for naught.but whichever path we took, it would not be the end of Sauron that has been planned. "I warned Isildur that this would happened." I sighed. "For the sake of the Alliance, Elrond, I will do it."  
Elrond looked relieved. He took my hand and pulled me towards the tent flap. "Come, we must hurry." We strode purposefully to the outside.  
"Lord Elrond!" One of the guards said, crossing his spear with that of the other guard to halt our progress. "I cannot allow you to take the Lady Anórmír without the express wishes of the High King of the Elves Gil- galad."  
Elrond stopped, thinking quickly for some way around it. Damned Elves, they're too honourable.  
"It is because my Lord King Gil-galad needs me that I must go with Lord Elrond. You needn't worry, I will be with Lord Elrond the whole time. The High King would not wish you to leave your posts, and so he sent Elrond to accompany me." I gave a shy smile, the sort that turn males' knees to jelly. "I'm late as it is."  
The guards nodded briefly towards us and then resumed their places. Elrond and I hurried along towards the main pavilion.  
"A clever cover," Elrond complimented mildly. "You were quick- thinking, and it was not wholly a lie. Gil-galad does need you- he's just not aware of it yet."  
  
That was my thinking, Elrond. You see? I'm not really as silly as you think I am.  
  
We arrived at the main pavilion of Elendil's part of the Last Alliance camp, and as Elrond and I approached, the men who stood guard gave a questioning look.  
"She's with me," Elrond explained. "My King requires her presence within."  
The guards gave a curt nod and drew back the tent flaps so we could enter.  
  
To say we arrived just in time was no exaggeration. If Elrond and I had taken even a second longer to get there, it would have been a disaster for the Last Alliance.  
"Isildur, Lord Gil-galad is correct- you had not right to-" The one I assumed was King Elendil began firmly.  
"I was also right! If those Elf-maidens are out of their sight for more than an hour, Gil-galad and Glorfindel abandon the Alliance-" Isildur retorted hotly.  
"Which we would not have done had you left our Ladies well alone-" Gil- galad growled.  
The tent flaps fluttered closed and it was then that those standing within noticed Elrond and I standing seemingly calmly, watching them.  
"There are emotions designed to override all logic and reason, Isildur. And whilst I would name Love as the first and foremost of emotions that fits this category, I have observed that even you have been affected by such a feeling." I began. I was clenching and unclenching my hands against the soft fabric of the breeches I wore, hoping they wouldn't notice how nervous and frightened I was to be speaking amongst people of such high rank. I'd often felt that way about Ereinion before, but his confidence was catching when I knew he'd always be there to defend me.and now I had to defend Isildur, the one person I felt really deserved whatever he got.  
I noticed Captain Dúmassë, Sergeant Lichmé and the others from the group who had kidnapped myself and my Elven sister, standing slightly behind Isildur. "What are you doing here?"  
It was Elendil who answered me. "As my son's accomplices in your kidnapping, my Lady, they are also called to trial. They shall be judged and justice shall be paid, have no fear of that."  
"Though I bear no affection for them, I think it would be most unfair to punish them for following the orders of their Prince," I stated, looking from Isildur and his men to Elendil. I deliberately avoided Ereinion's gaze at this time. "For in these dark times, is it not necessary that those same soldiers follow their leader's orders to the latter? We cannot afford to lose men of such ardent dedication." I almost choked on those words.  
Elendil looked at me with an emotion I couldn't determine gleaming in his eyes. He nodded. "Captain Dúmassë, you and your men are free to go." When Dumbass hesitated, Elendil added, "You have duties within this war that you need to address."  
At last it was just Elendil, Isildur, Ereinion, Elrond and me left in the tent.  
"What is this feeling I am guilty of?" Isildur enquired coldly, bringing my attention back to my earlier comments.  
"Care," I replied simply. "You care for your subordinates, the men who will live, eat, fight and die beside you, for a cause that you and they care greatly for. There is no one within this camp who wishes to see the Dark Lord win this war, Isildur; don't make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who wants to destroy him. Care is what overrode your logic and reasoning when you made the decision to kidnap Minaimîr and I from our tent with the intention of sending us to Minas Ithil - which, to be fair, was intended to keep us safe from harm. I will admit that you never really wanted us to be harmed, except in the event that we should resist co- operation of your plans - something you counted on, though hoped we would not nonetheless. But why, Isildur? Ask yourself why? Because you believed that my Lord King Gil-galad and Lord Glorfindel were distracted by us, that their care was only for us the Elf-maidens, and that their concentration waned on the matters that you cared about."  
I was feeling stronger and more certain of myself as I spoke, and I gestured with hands and expressions on my face less rigidly now. "Yet ultimately, you achieved that which you feared, and no other can be given the blame in this matter. Whilst you believe, my Lord King Gil-galad and Lord Glorfindel proved you right in your assumptions- you have also been proven wrong, for there are things about Minaimîr and I which you are unaware."  
I resisted the urge to smirk when suddenly Isildur's stoic face betrayed the slightest looks of uncertainty. I kept my gaze trained on Isildur, Elendil and Gil-galad had to listen and I know they would for my words kept everyone quiet and gave voice to all views of the matter.  
"Did you ever wonder why Minaimîr and I suddenly showed up at this time, in this place, Isildur?" Isildur did not answer, but his lowered his head. "Indeed, we are young and have little to no experiences in war and fighting.and yet the Valar sent us here, believing that somehow we could make a difference."  
Isildur looked up startled, and a quick glance at Elendil revealed that he had already been aware of Ereinion's suspicions. Apparently Elendil had kept many thoughts to himself. I was surprised that he had chosen not to inform his own son of the Kings' joint beliefs. Obviously, none of the men except Elendil knew of mine and Rhiannon's true origins and nature either.  
"'Tis true," Ereinion spoke up, glancing at Elendil. "We were not entirely certain of how Anórmír and Minaimîr came to be where they were the day Captain Dúmassë found them, and it was my belief that the Valar had sent them to aid us in our cause. As to how two Elf-maidens could help us to victory, I knew not then nor do I know now. Until we had evidence, I felt it best not to say anything."  
Elendil's expression was one of silent agreement with the High King of the Elves. Isildur still looked stunned.  
"I know not how I am meant to help either, but I do know that to whatever end or cause I must remain with the Last Alliance." I added.  
I think on a subconscious level at least, Isildur knew that I had saved him from the fate that I had predicted just a two days ago and he knew would have come to pass had I not stepped in and swayed Ereinion and Elendil's anger. The Alliance was all important, which I had subtly reminded them.  
"We know that our duties to the Alliance come first, Isildur," I said softly. "Many feelings more than you have seen have we put aside to do what we know is important for the present."  
Suitably chastised, Isildur nodded in agreement and silent apology, before apologizing aloud both to his father, and me and my Elvenking. He promised to apologise to Glorfindel and Minaimîr immediately, at which point Elrond intervened and suggested that when next Isildur saw them would be a better time than at present.  
It left my mind boggling with the possibilities of why Elrond seemed to think my sister and her Elf-love should not be disturbed.  
"Let me never find that you should take it upon yourself to kidnap or plan anything to do with those two Elf-maidens again, or you will find that your own fate is far worse than anything you imagine. Leave us now; you have your own duties to perform," Elendil dismissed.  
Isildur bowed low and left. Elendil picked up some papers and commented mildly. "I hope you will forgive me, I have a few minor problems of my own that I need to sort out. Shall we meet again here tomorrow?"  
Ereinion nodded, seemingly unable to speak.  
Elendil headed towards the 'door', but stopped as I met his gaze. His eyes sparkled as he remarked mischievously, "She'll make a very good Queen, don't you think, my Lords?"  
I blushed and lowered my gaze.  
"Indeed, and a beautiful one at that," Elrond agreed. I told myself I'd remember to hit him later for that. I glanced up at Ereinion, who seemed to be trying to hide his smile and pride at their words without being obvious about it.  
"She is very young, yet wise in her own way," Elendil continued. Obviously he was enjoying my embarrassment at such high praise. "I think Isildur is very wrong in his thoughts- the High King will let nothing distract him, for the sooner he can defeat the Dark Lord, the sooner he will be back in Lindon with his Lady." Elendil left at that point, but not before my cheeks were burning red. Males! Did they always have sex and other such topics on their minds?  
  
I was brought back to reality when Ereinion, who had regained his composure, turned on Elrond, who still stood quietly just behind me. "Elrond," Ereinion began threateningly.  
Sensing my Elf-love's darkening mood that he had been disobeyed, I stepped forward and opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp glance from Ereinion warned me to stay out it, regardless of my own disobedience in the matter.  
"Lady Anórmír was to stay in my tent," Ereinion said quietly. "You knew that."  
"When you sent me to bring her towels and clothes, I informed her of what was going on here. She agreed with me that she was needed her more than in your tent." Elrond explained carefully. "I would not disobey, my Lord, but it was necessary- for the Alliance and the good of all free peoples."  
Ereinion seemed to be of two minds, knowing Elrond's judgment on this was right, but also angry that he had been disobeyed.  
Think of the argument we interrupted, I said softly through our mind-link, looking up at my Elf-love. And think of what might have come of it, had Elrond not told me of what was happening. We can't afford to lose Isildur, nor can we afford for his men to be demoralised by his foolish mistakes. It is better this way.  
Ereinion didn't say anything, but I knew he would relent on any punishment this time. "Elrond, if you would escort Lady Anórmír back to her tent?"  
I didn't bother asking what I was supposed to do once I got back; I'd already pushed Ereinion's patience far enough. I knew when to stay quiet.  
Elrond bowed his acquiescence, but I could see that he still felt terrible that he had disobeyed his King.  
  
We left Ereinion in the tent without looking back, and were only a short way of the route back to the High King's tent when Rhiannon ran straight into us.  
"Fiona? You alright? What the hell happened?"  
"What's the matter?" I asked, confused. It was at this point I noticed that she only wore a tunic, but seemingly nothing else. "Why aren't you dressed?" And then I realised that the bruise on her face was completely healed and gone. "And what happened to your face?"  
Elrond grabbed Rhiannon's chin and examined the now-healed formerly- bruised skin. His eyes widened. "Glorfindel," he stated. His voice held some unidentifiable emotion, almost as though he were both angry, irritated and just a little afraid.  
Glorfindel did that? I was confused and stunned. It seemed my emotions couldn't quite get anything right that day.  
"Yeah," Rhiannon replied, taking her chin back from Elrond's grasp. "He pulled some healing-speeder-upper-thingy on me." She turned to me. "Why were you so upset?"  
"What?" I blinked. Everything was happening a bit too rapidly for me to keep up with, and I was exhausted.  
"I had this feeling you were upset about something, so I ran out of the tent to find you. I'd just had a bath and I'd 'borrowed' one of Glorfy's shirts to wear, and when I sensed something was wrong with you, I came immediately."  
"Oh." My mind suddenly caught up with the information overload. "I wasn't upset, really. Just kind of nervous. I had to stop Ereinion, Elendil and Isildur from screwing up the Alliance. As you well know, I don't like speaking in front of people I'm not familiar with, nor in formal situations. It required a lot more courage than I'm used to having."  
Rhiannon's look of relief was palpable. "Don't do that again," she advised me.  
"Do what?" Surely she didn't think I had any intentions of talking in front of those people again, did she?  
"Scare me like that." Oh, so it wasn't what I thought it was. "Even if you don't really know how, just don't." Yes, dear sister, like that's going to work.  
I just smiled. "I'll try, if you promise the same."  
Elrond chose that moment to speak up. I could tell he was slightly anxious, having noticed him glancing back in the direction of where we had left Ereinion. "My Ladies, I believe it would be a good idea for you both to return to the tents from whence you came."  
Notice, he didn't yet say 'the tents of your Lords'. But I was sure he was itching to put it like that. And why not? It was the most apt description. Granted, none of us were married and it implied something Elven customs don't agree with, but it would have been true soon enough.  
Rhiannon nodded, but a thought occurred to me. "Wait!" I said. I glanced at Elrond. "Um, maybe now would be a good time for that." My face went red with embarrassment as I thought of a way to put it. "That.er...discussion?"  
Rhiannon clearly had no idea what I was talking about, despite having agreed that we needed to know more about the, ah, nature.of Elves. But then, she wasn't aware that I'd asked Elrond to talk about things so soon.  
Elrond looked at me curiously, obviously wondering why I was suddenly so embarrassed about talking about it. He considered my proposal dubiously. After all, he did have seemingly endless duties to attend. "My orders were to escort the Lady Anórmír to the High King Gil-galad's tent. Cannot this discussion wait?"  
Bloody fires of hell! Males of all races are frustrating! Just do what I tell you to, damnit! "May we not sit in the antechamber of my Lord's tent?" I suggested. I was certain Elrond could have come up with this option, but he was mostly still distracted by the feelings of shame for disobeying his King.  
"Glorfy's sleeping," Rhiannon offered in support.  
"Surely there is nothing overly pressing that needs to be seen to at this very moment? Could we not sit and speak of things until my Lord returns?" I added. I knew I was sweet-talking Elrond into co-operating, but if here was the perfect opportunity to find out something I needed to know without Ereinion knowing that I was learning about it. I hated to be so ignorant of my new race and hated having to admit I didn't understand such simple things to Ereinion didn't thrill me either.  
Elrond reluctantly agreed, and escorted us to the High King's tent. The guards didn't say anything, just opened the tent flaps so we could enter. Damn, I could get used to that. *grins* I mean, how many times do we get this kind of treatment back home? I can't recall any incident where someone opened the door for me (unless it was family that who obeyed only to shut my whinging up), even if I had my hands full.  
  
We got comfortable on the floor, as best we could; Elrond in his armour clanked noisily as he did so. "What exactly did you want to talk about, Lady Anórmír?"  
I glanced at Rhiannon, but her expression convinced me that she still had no idea what I was trying to do. I sighed and looked at the blue fabric of the tent, to embarrassed to meet Elrond's gaze. "We need to know things about Elves," I began, wondering exactly how to put it.  
"Yes, you said that when you asked to have this discussion," Elrond reminded. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?"  
Oh, bloody hell! There's no polite way to put this that I know of...  
"Ooooh," Rhiannon finally caught onto what I was trying to ask. "I think I know now." So why don't you ask, sister dear? And spare me the embarrassment. For all Rhiannon's brazen actions and words, even she is lost for words about how to ask this.  
Elrond raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
"Um, er," I said, fidgeting nervously.  
"What...I mean.well, obviously you.do Elves have...um..." Rhiannon squirmed in her spot.  
I tried again. "Ah, well...let me put it this way.I believe the famous phrase children ask is something along the lines of 'do babies come from?'"  
Elrond furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding exactly what we were asking.  
Frustrated, I snapped. "Oh for crying out loud! How do Elves have sex and everything else about Elf-pregnancy and the like can you tell us?" My face burned with embarrassment which did nothing to improve my mood. I wanted to hit him for being so daft; if only there'd been another female Elf around, but I hadn't seen any and nobody had mentioned any, so Elrond was the best person around to ask about this, since we sort of knew him.  
  
Elrond's expression became one of palpable realisation. If Rhiannon's and my cheeks were red, Elrond's cheeks turned a colour that could rival sunburn. "Ah. Right. Now I understand." He didn't laugh, but there was a definite twinkle of amusement in his eyes if you looked past the embarrassment. And did I see pink blushes on the tips of his ears? "Well, to begin with, there is bonding. This is a joining of two souls into one, so that basically the mind and hearts of two individuals are linked and can never be separated."  
What...? I stared at Elrond, hoping the horrified feeling that was slowly keeping up on me didn't show. I was beginning to have an inkling about what Ereinion had really done.  
Believing that Rhiannon and I were staring at him in confusion, Elrond clarified. "Bonded couples can heard one another's thoughts and speak to one another that way, also passing along mental images. It is through this bond that the Elf-maiden is, ah, 'readied' for, well.for begetting."  
"This bond means a female is finally able to have kids?" Rhiannon blinked.  
"Children, yes," Elrond corrected.  
Oh my gosh... I was in internal panic mode. So that's what Ereinion did! He bonded with me that afternoon only a few days ago! I was bonded to him.never to be separated. I think what shocked me the most was the notion that I was now capable of child-bearing, despite only being a child by the terms of the Elves myself.  
There was a bashful silence before Rhiannon found the courage to speak up again. "So how." She paused, her face flushing to a deeper red. "How does this 'readying for begetting' work exactly?"  
"The normal cycle of an Elf-maiden in heat-" What are we dogs? I was offended that Elrond chose to use those words, especially since I could very well be facing my 'in heat' time. Elrond continued, unaware of my inner dialogue "-lasts for seven days each year, where in the chances of her begetting a child are extremely high. That is not to say that she cannot conceive at any other time, but that window of, er, opportunity is the time when she is most." he paused to think of the word. ".fertile."  
I swallowed the fear that drove its way into my chest and asked the question that I needed to know most. "How long after an Elf-maiden is bonded does she go through this.'in heat' cycle?" I hated using that phrase, but my mind had closed down any properly working functions and thus I was left with a limited vocabulary for speaking.  
"As I understand, it varies from Elf-maiden to Elf-maiden. But continuing on that subject...during this time, a maiden will lay with her bonded mate as many times as is required for her to conceive a child or until her desire for her mate is sated- but I read somewhere that the end of her desire is generally the end of the seven days of her cycle; rarely has it ended before except when the maiden in question begets a child."  
It was at that point, that became aware of a familiar presence very close and heading right for the tent we were in. Sure enough, after the presence stopped to chat quietly with the guards keeping an eye on the 'door', and moments later, the tent flaps were lifted aside and Ereinion entered. He stopped with eyebrows raised as he saw the three of us sitting on the floor, all of our faces and ears shaded with a variety of red and pink. I wished at that moment that I could just be swallowed up by the ground. I hoped he hadn't heard anything we were saying, but it seemed unlikely since he had been too far away, even with Elven hearing. Of course, that could have meant he caught the end of the Elrond's explanation...to say nothing of what his personal guards had heard!  
Ereinion seemed to be in much better spirits as he looked at us and grinned. I strongly suspected he had heard at least the end of what Elrond had been saying. "Please," the High King gestured that he had not meant to disturb us. "Continue with your discussion."  
"Er, I think-" Rhiannon and I began in unison. Neither of us wanted to continue talking about 'Elf sex', as my Elvish sister so aptly calls it, especially not in front of the High King of the Elves. We simultaneously exchanged glances and giggled just a little bit too nervously to readily hide our discomfit.  
"Later," Rhiannon said firmly. As she stood up, she missed seeing the amused look that Ereinion gave to a still blushing Elrond. Rhiannon gave me a hug- have you ever noticed how much better you feel when you get hugs from relatives and friends? I wish our society back home did not brand everyone who showed any sort of affection between same-sex friends as gay or lesbians.it's an unfair and ignorant assumption. But that argument's for another time; let's get back to the story, shall we?  
"We'll talk later," I agreed. I glanced at Elrond who had also risen from his seat on the ground. "Thank you, Elrond." I still wasn't comfortable with the whole titles thing. "We may wish to, ah..." I blushed again as I gave a quick glance in Ereinion's direction. ".go over some details later."  
"As you wish," Elrond said with a small bow. I imagine it's hard to bow in armour, but Elrond makes it look diginified. He turned to my sister. "My Lady Minaimîr, may I escort you to the Lord Glorfindel's tent?" Rhiannon nodded and waved cheerfully to the High King, giving me one last look that had 'behave!' written all over it and departed with Elrond not far behind.  
  
So I was left with Ereinion in a rather embarrassed silence. Clearly still amused, Ereinion stepped past me and opened the flap to the inner part of the tent. "Will you not come, my Lady?"  
I felt the blush creep up to the tips of my ears and I entered the inner 'room'. Ereinion came in behind me. He sat at his desk and looked at me, an amused smile still adorning his features. I met his gaze for a moment, but was unable to keep it for long and so I looked down at the floor again, the blush refusing to budge from my face.  
"I was somewhat bewildered when I saw the guards outside my tent with red- cheeked faces. I could not think why they would possibly be in that state. Upon nearing them, I suddenly heard something that could be the only source of their discomfit." Chuckling, Ereinion stood up and wrapped arms around my waist. I always feel so small when he does that. My body seems to become slender when he holds me- and I know how untrue that really is. I doubt I'll ever stop marvelling at the great height and size of Ereinion. Not to mention those gorgeous muscles I knew lurked beneath all that armour and clothing.  
Ereinion put his fingers beneath my chin and lifted my head to meet his solemn gaze. "I had meant to explain all this to you myself, Anórmír," he whispered, his tone betraying some regret. "After your reaction to our bonding, I knew that you were not yet ready to understand what had been wrought between us and I decided to wait a little while, so that when you were more acquainted with our bond, I could then explain it in a way that would not upset you."  
I sighed and leaned against Ereinion, enjoying being cuddled so close to the Elf I loved. "Given that you had bonded us without telling me beforehand, and that you had failed to tell me the truth about it afterwards, and that I had to find it all from Elrond.I had fully intended to blow up at you, as it were.but aside from the fact that you've just gone and ruined what little of my dark mood I was saving up for you, I realise that we would've bonded sooner or later anyway, and the timing does not matter so- in fact, one could even claim justifiably that it was a help when Minaimîr and I were kidnapped." I realised that was something I hadn't clarified. I looked up at him. "You did hear me and see the images I tried to send you when we were under the captivity of the orcs, didn't you?"  
Ereinion nodded with a smile. "Indeed. I had a hard time coming up with a reason to convince those with me that we should turn further to the south. I heard your voice in my mind as though you were yelling with wind trying to take your words away from me. I felt your bright hope and also your pain and misery. I was so enraged that my Anórmír had been taken away from me and had ended up in such a terrible situation as the one I found you in."  
I cuddled Ereinion closer, suddenly feeling tired, but content.  
"Do you wish to come and get some food with me?" Ereinion offered, not really wanting to break the moment, but knowing that it would be sooner or later.  
I sighed tiredly. "I'd really rather just fall asleep in your arms, and cuddle you as I sleep.but we're never going to be allowed that, are we?"  
Ereinion's voice was deep as he spoke softly in regret. "No, I doubt we will. Somebody is always needing something to be done...I've been through so many councils and meetings with commanders and leaders that my head is beginning to spin and all I want is to stay with you."  
I looked up, smiling. "We'd be going to for that food then- they might even let us have enough time to eat it."  
  
The dining-tent was full of rowdy Elves when we arrived. Ereinion bid me to sit down at an empty table while he went to get a meal for us both. Apparently he remembered the last time I tried to get the meals for us, and he wanted to avoid a repeated performance.  
However, I think I would've felt somewhat more secure being by Ereinion's side than at that table. Where I sat at was near the table of the rowdiest Elves in the tent. They were making all sorts of comments. It was alright at first- just joking about the war and Sauron's cowardice et cetera, et cetera. But then the topic changed.  
"Did you folks here about the High King and Glorfindel? Apparently they left camp to go chasing after those pretty little she-Elves that arrived here about two weeks ago." One of them began, after the noise had died down for a moment.  
"Yeah, I did. They only got back today. Cold mad furious, they were when they heard them ladies had gone!" Another clarified for the rest.  
Contrary to popular belief, even Elves are capable of speaking like drunken men when they're under the influence.  
"Gil-galad is enamoured by the Vanyarin Elf-maiden," one of the slightly more sober Elves put in. I honestly don't know how they got so tipsy in the first place. Isn't it unprofessional to allow any alcoholic beverages into an army camp?  
"Oh, aye!" The first one laughed. "At last our king has found himself a maiden to wife!"  
"But he hasn't married her yet!"  
"To be sure, it won't be long- you know that Gil-galad won't let her out of his sight now? The Vanyarin maiden stays in his own tent now. I doubt she'll continue to be a maiden for long!"  
"And the same for Glorfindel! His saucy little maiden is getting under his skin- he takes his frustrations out on the practice field!"  
"Gil-galad should get his lady on her back and rid her of all that excess energy- she wouldn't be running off anywhere, if she doesn't have the strength!"  
By now, as you can imagine, my face was so red that I'm surprised I hadn't popped a couple of blood vessels. I was very embarrassed at what they were saying and somewhat angry as well.  
"It's about time our king had an heir!"  
"Who wants to bet that after our king has bedded his queen that a skip returns to his step?"  
"I certainly would if I could have such a pretty maiden to play with during this war!"  
"Aye!" came the collective cheer.  
"Now come, the wagers! What say you to the reckoning that she's his queen and wife by the end of the week?"  
"Nay, the end of the night!" There was another round of boisterous laughter.  
"To the king, his beautiful queen-to-be, and the heir who is soon to follow!" One raised his tin cup in a toast.  
"To the king!" the Elves toasted and threw their heads back to down the last of their drink.  
I took the momentary quiet to speak. I was pissed off! "Why don't you say it a little louder- I don't think they heard you in Lindon." I said, keeping an even voice that was clear for all to hear. The boisterous Elves turned to look at me, the colour draining from their faces as they realised who had spoken.  
"Isn't that-" one of them began.  
"Shh!" several others around him urged.  
"You might want to check the present company before discussing the 'bed' life of your king. And I would advise you to leave me out of your discussions completely. I don't appreciate the context in which you put me." I was tempted to stalk out of the tent, but by that time Ereinion arrived with plates for both of us.  
"Lieutenant Airuial, you and your command are on privy duty for the next 10 days," Ereinion said evenly, but silenced the groans with a sharp glance that spoke volumes.  
"Privy duty?" I repeated more softly, signalling to anyone else around us that it was a private conversation.  
"They get to carry the barrels filled with the, ah, waste from the privies and take them a fair distance away before burying them." Ereinion explained.  
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "Let's change topics, or I'm liable to hurl dinner back up."  
"Hurl dinner back up? Has he got her pregnant already?" the foolish Elf under Airuial's command asked, not realising how loud he spoke. However, it did reveal to me that even she-Elves get morning sickness. Damn.  
"Lieutenant, make that 20 days of privy duty, and I advise you to remove your soldiers before it gets any worse," Ereinion announced. Airuial immediately started ordering crisply and a good number of Elves left the dining tent.  
  
Mealtime was definitely quieter and more cheerful after that. 


	21. A Bloody Long Chapter About Rescues, Beg...

A/N: And now it's my turn to post a chapter!  Yay chapter!

Now, in answer to some concerned reviews and emails I've been getting, no, I didn't delete BCWYWF parts I and II from my account.  Someone deleted them for me, after hacking into my account and leaving a "YOU HAVE BEEN HACKED" message.  I have informed ff.net via their reportabuse@fanfiction.net email address.

If anyone out there knows anyone who goes by the handle Lady Lynx, please punch her for me.  And then please inform her that she is a childish individual with an obvious lack of respect for others, that her little stunt only worked as long as it took me to upload new files, and that she should perhaps learn to act like an adult before she ends up friendless and alone in an unforgiving world.

And now, on with the story!!!

***

Glorfy didn't press me for information about the men who had kidnapped us, or how I'd gotten my black eye.  I had fallen asleep against his shoulder as he carried me back out of the scrub trees, leaving the dead Orcs to scavengers.  I don't know if Gilly carried Fiona, or if she walked.  I just know that darkness is a wonderful thing when you've been fighting it for so long and need to rest.

            Unfortunately, I woke up in the middle of the Dead Marshes.  That place reeks. The very smell of it drew me from one of the most pleasant dreams I'd ever had:  Glorfy and I were getting married, and whatever powers brought us here had allowed my family to attend – although only in their dreams.  And then half way through the ceremony, something started to smell really super rank and I woke up to find…

            Miles and miles of rotting marshlands, bogs, sink holes and little lights off in the distance.  Glorfy said once that these were to be the spirits of drowned Orcs and Elves and Men.  I have a stronger suspicion, however, that those little lights were ignited methane spouts, which are common in large areas of rotting vegetation such as this.  Methane's a super bitch when there's fire about, but...sometimes that can be useful.  

            Whatever.  If a sea ever covers this bit of land, those marshes are going to make one hell of an oil deposit some day.  Provided, of course, that there were some serious geological changes going on, not to mention climatical.  The porous rocks necessary for the containment of oil are generally limestones, which are formed from the deposited sediments and organic materials in a tropical sea, (it's the calcium carbonate…can't be helped).  This isn't the only way, of course, but…you know what?  Enough of this.  While my speculations about the geology of the area kept me occupied that long ride back to camp (as much as I would have rather to talk to Glorfy, moving my face in any way hurt like a bloody bitch, so I avoided it.  Hard, when you're sitting in front of a super hot Elf), I'm sure you don't want to listen to my ramblings any more.

"Minaimîr."  Besides.  It seems that Glorfy wished to speak to me, even though I couldn't answer very well.  At some point while I was sleeping, my jaw muscles had gotten very stiff.  

Despite this, I turned my head up a little to look at him and was rewarded with a lovely view of his jaw.  He has a very nice jaw.  Very well defined.  For a moment, all I could think about was tracing that jaw…finger or kisses; the method didn't matter.  

            "Yeah?" I may be an Elf now, I but I don't think I'll ever manage to get their dignified sort of speech down.  Well, at least, not yet.  As I told Elrond, being human is a habit hard to get rid of.

            "Why did you run?"  He asked.  "Is it something that I have said or done to offend you?  I know that I may have acted in a manner that is very inappropriate for one I have known as long as you, but I assure you that you needn't run again.  I will perform this courtship in a more honorable fashion if that is your wish."

            I let him speak his bit, not wanting to hurt the feelings that he had so obviously admitted to.  I know I'm still having some issues considering the fact that I actually had someone I could call a 'boyfriend' now (it's a novel thing when you've never had one before), but there were still some things about his ideas of what happened that I needed to put straight.

            "Glorfy, you lovable fool," I began.  Not the best way to begin a sentence, but then, he _was_ acting a bit foolish.  "I didn't – and never would – run from you."  Hadn't I mentioned the man who had back fisted me?  "Don't you remember?  I was kidnapped."

He looked a little embarrassed but glanced around. Looking for eavesdroppers?  "I need to know more of your kidnapping, then."

            I noticed (finally) that we rode a little away from everyone else, and that Glorfy spoke in a hushed voice.  "What do you need to know?"  I kept my voice hushed too, though I'm quite sure that every Elf behind us could hear everything we said.  They'd had more practice with the ears, after all.

            "Everything.  "Every touch and every word spoken to you."

            His voice held a definite edge to it.  A sudden knot of dread decided to make its presence known in my belly.  I frowned slightly.

            "Why?" I asked worriedly.  "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"

            "Lady, great insult has been presented to you.  Your captors must be punished."

            I kept silent.  I remembered how we'd tied the idiots up and left them to the elements, their weapons just out of reach.  Guilt joined the dread; I'd been playing with people's lives.  So what if they'd kidnapped us and dragged us though the smelly Marshes?  They're still _people_, and as much as I hate to admit it, I still feel twinges of what could possibly be loyalty (though more like nostalgic loyalty) to my previous species.  Besides: that sort of behavior – leaving people to their deaths – doesn't make me much better than an Orc and I _definitely_ did not want to be compared to those bloody bunyips.      

            In our defense, though, those idiots _did_ interrupt a perfectly good sleep, and they _did_ kidnap my sister and I, and they _did_ drag us half way across Middle-earth and one of them _did_ backhand me and leave me with a nasty concussion…but they were acting on orders.  The orders of an idiot, but they're still orders.  Soldiers follow orders – it's what they're there for.

            "They will be," I replied eventually.  _And have been_, I added mentally.  "But I think you should leave that up to Gilly-boy."

            "I know, Minaimîr," he sighed.  I noticed that he had abandoned the efforts to get me to stop referring to the High King as 'Gilly-boy'.  I wonder if this is a step in the right direction?  "Yet anger boils my blood when I look upon your damaged face, and I cannot help but wish to seek retribution for your injuries."

            I shuddered, remembering the Orc that had called me 'damaged'.  I consoled myself with the thought that that Orc was long dead – and killed by its own kin.  

"I know what you mean," I said ruefully.  "I kept myself awake planning their slow, torturous deaths, but…in the end, I would not be able to carry them out, and I feel somewhat disgusted with myself for even thinking of them."  

            "You only acted as your situation deemed, _melyanna_," Glorfy said quietly.  His arms slid securely around me.  Glorfy didn't have to worry about Minras' reigns; the horse knew where to go.  "You cannot be at fault for that."

            "I know.  We would have been fine, though, if not for those damned Orcs.  And their damned collars."  And if I hadn't left well enough alone and let Fiona throw the damned coconut.  But I didn't say that aloud.

            "It may take time for you to heal from these wounds, both inside and out." Glorfy pushed me back suddenly, looking down at me with a worry – and a fear – that I can only remembering seeing once, when he carved his way through Orcs to get me during my first battle.  "But please, _melyanna_, consider staying a while in Middle-earth before you go to the Sea.  There is much to see, even with this war, and I do not think that I could bear it if you – "

            I silenced him with a hand upon his lips.  "If you think, Glorfindel the Golden, that I'm going anywhere without you or Fiona, then you're seriously mistaken."  I smiled to take the sting from my words.  "I may be female, but damn it, I was human before this, and taught from childhood to handle depression.  I can handle a little grief."

            He pulled me closer again.  "You have no idea how glad my heart is to hear such words from you," he murmured into my hair.  I sagged against his broad – and wonderfully firm – chest.  There was nothing I could say.  Despite the reek of the Marshes, I was content.  Where my head was I got the scent of Hot Elf.  

"We of the Elven races," Glorfy continued, "have not dealt well with the grief brought upon us so many centuries ago.  Even the smallest sadness experienced only adds to our sorrows because it comes with the knowledge that eventually everything beautiful that we hold dear will fade."

            "Not everything," I said, in an effort to placate him, though I knew his words rang true.  Even Elves die sometimes, and mountains are worn down over time.  "Valinor will stand until the ends of time, and even then I'm sure some sort of arrangement will be made."

            "We can but hope," my golden Elf replied.  "Especially that we will make it past this battle, and that the world will not end in darkness."

            It took effort, but I didn't tell him about the return of Sauron, or the darkening of Greenwood the Great by the Necromancer, or of Gollum, or Bilbo, or Frodo, or even of the fact that I knew that he would make it out of the Battle, and even to the end of the next Age some three thousand years from now.  That thought, even though I knew that it might change things, bore with it a concept that I had tried very, very hard to forget, and even now, had not thought of.  

Gilly wasn't getting out of this.  What that was going to do to Fiona…

            "We can," I agreed.  There was nothing I could do about Gilly, except that hope that his remaining time with Fiona wasn't interrupted by any more of these stupid plots to rid the camp of its 'distractions.'  "Hope is all we really have, these days."

            We were silent for a time, still a little ahead of the others.  His arms hadn't moved from around me and I was almost lulled to sleep again by the gentle swaying of Minras.  But Glorfy drew me back out of sleepiness again with a quietly spoken sentiment that melted what parts of my heart hadn't been melted yet, and turned what solid parts remained of my body into jelly.  

            "You are my hope, Minaimîr."  Barely whispered words…you wouldn't have thought that they'd have such a strong impact, would you?  But words can be fickle things sometimes.  When uttered at the right moment…well, you get one jellified Rhiannon with tears in her eyes.

            The only thing I could do in response was burry my head further into his chest.  I don't remember how I managed it, but I somehow ended up sidesaddle with my arms tight around him, trying very hard to keep those hot tears behind my eyelids lest someone else notice.  

How is it possible that those five little words could do this to a reasonably sensible, nearly grown woman?

            Well, nearly grown by our old standards of 'civilization', anyway.  By the Men's codes, I'm a spinster (hopefully not for long!) and by the Elves' codes, I'm a child, barely old enough to like boys and still somewhat confused about the Birds and the Bees.  Why this somehow qualifies me for the Glorfindel's Hope award I'm not sure, but I'm definitely not complaining!

            I realized after a moment that I could hear his heart through his breastplate, and thought contentedly that I could stay like this, listening to that simple beat, for the rest of my natural existence…  

            And then Elrond showed up.  

            I wasn't as annoyed as perhaps I might have been.  Elrond and I had, in fact, made a sort of peace.  Definitely a truce, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease the living daylights out of him every chance I got, or act like a total idiot just to annoy him for the sake of it…when I was better.  I suppose e _is_ the King's Herald but…I can have my fun!  Besides: I swear that Elf makes his own timing.  For him everything's just peachy keen, but for everyone else…this has to be the most annoying talent on the face of the planet.

            Still, the fact that Gostanc – his horse – didn't seem all that tired told me that we must be nearing the camp.  I could see the vague outline of tents through the mists of the Marshes, and now that I was listening for it – instead of Glorfy's heart beat – I could hear the sounds of the everyday motions of the camp; voices and orders given and armor maintained, and horses being fed, and soldiers practicing on the fields, mostly.  Combined with the snap of pennants in the wind and the rustling of the Sindar's tents, which almost looked as though they were made of leaves.  A fresh wind blew from the direction of the camp, and I suddenly found the smell of too many people in one spot with not enough bathwater to be inviting.  More inviting than the Marshes, anyway.

            And speaking of bathwater…I could _really_ use a good hot bath.  With a resigned sigh, I knew I was going to have to settle for a sponge and a bowl, but…well, I can't complain.  This _is_ a war, after all, and I'd already had my turn at the big tub.

            "Lord Glorfindel," Elrond said slowly as he rode up.  He bowed from the saddle.  That bland expression he's so well known for must be permanently etched into his features.  "I see that you have found the Ladies Minaimîr and Anórmír."

            I pulled my head from my scrutiny of Glorfindel's armpit (it's a lovely smelling armpit; really it is) and turned to greet the Royal Pain in the Ass.  He took one look at my face and visibly flinched.  

            "Hey," I protested.  "It can't be that bad.  And 'hello' to you too," I added.

            "I take it you have yet to see your face, my Lady," Elrond replied, his voice dripping with tact.  "The entire left side of your face is as nearly blue-black as the night sky."

            "That would explain the throbbing.  You've got some smelly man in the service of Hermes back there to thank for that one, though I'm pretty sure it's already been seen to."  Damn.  Was my face really that bad?  This was going to put off the tentative plans for a 'reunion celebration' that I had, involving Glorfindel, some privacy, a little chocolate and yours truly.   Although the chocolate was more of a side thought.  Glorfindel and I were the first two ingredients, and privacy was the biggest one.  From there, just mix well and…hee hee hee!

            "I must hurry to speak with the King," Elrond continued.  "But I will heal your wounds later tonight, if you will permit."

            "Of course," I said, though I really wanted to strangle the Elf, our truce forgotten.  So much for that tentative reunion celebration!  Ah well.  _Rhiannon, you have other things to worry about, like staying alive during the war.  This means getting that concussion looked after._

            There are times when I hate my inner dialogue, but not often. Hating oneself has always seemed to me to be a pointless gesture.  Hating stupid idiots who dragged you off into the wilderness for no other reason than politics…now, there's a gesture that's not so pointless!

            Elrond nodded sharply and then nudged Gostanc into a quick trot back towards where, no doubt, Fiona was with Gilly.  I wondered how those two were coming along, but didn't look back.  Glorfindel can make any obstructed view seem all the more better.  With another sigh, I put my head back on his shoulder, and closed my eyes, dozing until we reached the camp.  

            I jerked out of my daze when Glorfy and I pulled up at the horse pens.  He hopped down and then helped me dismount, and with a quiet word to Minras, he led me away slowly.  I found it easier to walk as we went along, though, so I guess I didn't really need to lean on Glorfy like I was, but…well, when you stand next to an Elf that hot, you try not leaning on him as much as you possibly can.  Especially when he's being Mr. Gentleman and insists upon helping you do everything.

            Including, as it seems, bathe.  

            "You are tired and in pain, my lovely one," Glorfindel argued when we got to his tent, which was apparently closer than the one Fiona and I shared.  "And it would not be a hardship to wash you."

            "Glorfy," I answered as firmly as I could manage, "As sorely as I'm tempted right now, I _really_ don't think it'd be a good idea for me to let you.  Don't worry, sweets," I added, figuring this next might be on his mind.  "I'm not going anywhere, and with you in the outer part of the tent, no one's getting in."

            "Are you certain, lovely one?"

            "Quite."  One of these days, I'm going to have to take him up on that, though.  I still think it's odd that at the beginning of this little adventure of ours, I would have jumped full force at the mere suggestion that he might be willing to fetch me bathwater.

            But still.  As much I as I would absolutely _love_ to have Glorfy at work with a cloth and hot water (that promises to be a great deal of fun), certain recent events concerning chocolate, and then our sudden disappearance might hasten things along a course that should be slower than it would have been.  In other words, I don't want to rush things, and I don't think it would be a good idea for anything to happen just now.

            _If not now, when_?

            _Would you just shut up?_

_            Make me._

            "Minaimîr?"

            "What?"  I looked around, and then realized that I'd been lost in thought again, and that my inner dialogue decided that it had been a good time to be a pain in the ass.  

            "Are you alright?  You appeared distant."  Is it just me or is he getting more worried?  Maybe he thought I was going to 'run from him' or something.  Men can be so _strange_ sometimes.  

            "Sorry, Glorfy," I apologized.  "I'm quite tired, that's all.  It's been a hectic couple of days."  _And the prospect of you giving me a bath, has once again sent my mind a whirl_.  But I didn't say that out loud.

            "All the more reason for me to ease your load and wash your skin," Glorfindel answered.  

            _Bloody hell_!  Where is it said that guys are allowed to do this to women?  I almost gave in – almost.  Came so very, very close to whipping off all my clothes right then and yelling, 'Wash me then, Glorfy boy!' at the top of my lungs.  

But I didn't.  I think Fiona would be ever so proud at my restraint, had she been there at the time.

"Your offer is most generous," I said slowly, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.  "But I really think it would be a good idea if we held that particular thought for later."  I couldn't help but notice that this was the second time we were having this conversation.  Does he never give up on an idea?  Or maybe he just wants to see me naked.

That thought stopped the blood in my veins quite effectively.  I wonder…would he let me bathe _him_?  

_Rhiannon, mind _out_ of the gutter!_

_Yes, mother_.

_I'm not your mother, you idiot.  I'm you!  And as much fun as this is, you _really_ need to be coherent right now_.

_Fine, fine_.

Glorfy sighed.  "If that is how you see things, _melyanna_, then I will make no more effort to change your will.  I will have some water heated and brought then, along with clean clothes."

"Thanks, Glorfy," I said as he gave a little bow.  His smile in return made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight on end.  I almost called him back in too, after he slipped out of the tent.  But I didn't.

Instead, I sat down and wrote this…well, most of this.  When you're away for a couple of days, and things happen, there's always too much to catch up.  If anyone of you have actually written a journal like this, I'm sure you know.

Glorfy returned with a bucket of steaming water and a pile of clean cloths, which he left on his desk.  The water he dumped into a silver bowl next to the cloths.  It didn't look anywhere near as luxurious as the last bath he'd brought me, but it did look quite wonderful.

"If you are in need of assistance, my Lady, or should need more cloths with which to bathe, please, do not hesitate to call me.  I shall await yonder for your call."

"Will do," I replied.  It was the only thing I could think of to say.  He bowed again and slipped away.  I set about removing my clothes and tried very hard not to think about Glorfindel removing my clothes…that would have sent me on thought paths that wouldn't have been very constructive towards any sanity I might still have left, so I changed the subject (or tried to) and thought instead about the last time I had seen my littlest brother.  

He'd been about six, standing in the airport terminal next to mum as they waved me good-bye on my way off to Australia.  He had been wearing the sweetest little outfit; a pair of cargo pants and the cutest blue sweater with a teddy bear embroidered on the front…I had given him a hug before I'd left and…

I stopped that thought immediately, before the tears started.  I wanted to remember my family with good thoughts, not immediately start crying while I was trying to get back to my bath.  

Still though, I had to wonder.  How had they taken the news of my death?  And where had they buried me?  Had they shipped my body home from Australia back to Canada?  I certainly hoped so.  As much as I wanted to be buried next to Fiona, I think I now understand why it is people return to the place they were born to be buried.  It's a sense of completion, of coming Full Circle.  Or maybe there's some salmon in the blood.  

Despite my efforts, my throat felt thick as I began to wash, starting at my feet and working my way up.  Of course, in order for one to get the most skin clean on ones legs, they are often forced to put one leg at a time up on a desk.  Stiffly, yes, but I had to do it, because bending over wouldn't have worked for the world.  There was a satisfying pop in the back of my leg when I finally managed to get it on the desk.  I flexed my toes and heard the most wonderful sounds of snapping cartilage that I've ever heard.    

I had just finished one leg and was starting on the other when I heard a curious little cough behind me and turned – somewhat slowly, on account of the bruise that was still on my back – to see if I could discern from where it came.  I saw naught but a tent flap, which I graced with a narrow-eyed suspicious look before turning back to my bath.  If Glorfindel was watching…

New thoughts now…before something regrettable happens.  

Legs done, I started on my belly and had finally – after several sore moments – made it up to my arms when there came the distinct sound of somebody dropping something and then tripping over it a moment later.  It ended in a very loud clatter, accompanied by a sudden, and serious, bout of Elvish curses.  

"Are you alright, Glorfy?" I asked, somewhat concerned.  

"I am well_, melyanna_," Glorfy answered.  There was something wrong with his voice though; it didn't sound quite so rich any more, and actually sounded somewhat strangled.  There was more clattering of metal on metal.  

"You sure?"  The Elvish cursing continued in a mutter for a moment.  

"Yes, lovely one.  I am sure.  Nothing is the matter."

Now…isn't that just a _leeetle_ bit abrupt for my Golden Elf?  Something's amiss, and I'd better investigate.  With a quick rub of the cloth behind my ears and gently across my face, I picked up the robe Glorfy had brought, put it on, and went to see what was up with the blonde god of my existence.

He was fine – for someone who had tripped over a crate and had landed in a pile of armor.  There were styluses and paper strewn about the area, but I didn't stop to look at what he had been doing, only went over to see if he was all right.  

I pulled his breastplate off his head and tried very, very hard to keep the giggles smothered, knowing how delicate Elves can be sometimes when it comes to their dignity.  It wasn't going to last for long, I knew, but I thought it probably best if I didn't immediately greet his embarrassed look with sniggers and chortles.  I offered him my hand instead, and he grasped it.

Damn…I'd forgotten, for an instant, the feel of those wonderful, fine-boned hands of his.  They're so strong too, which belies their look.  Not that I'm complaining or anything.  He pulled himself up, but didn't yank too hard on my arm, which I found to be a blessing.  I don't think I could have supported the entire weight of his nearly seven-foot frame, however slender.  

By the time he stood by himself, straightening his tunic, I was biting the inside of my cheek hard.

"Even Elves are allowed to trip, Lady," Glorfy said a bit defensively.  

"Are they now?"

Elrond again.  Come to heal me, no doubt.  A glad as I was at the prospect of being rid of my bruises, things could have gotten a lot more interesting if I'd managed to answer Glorfy.

"Yes, my Lord," Glorfindel answered.  "It has been known to happen."

"Indeed.  Lady Minaimîr.  I have come to see to your injuries."

"Damn.  Can you hold on a minute?  I haven't done my back yet.  Or my hair."  Let the record stand that I am not a vain person.  I just detest dirt when it's on me.  I _adore_ being clean.  

"I believe both may wait," Elrond said smoothly.  He hefted a sack in his left hand.  "I have brought the supplies necessary to concoct a poultice for your face," he continued.  I wondered why he hadn't bothered to think of this for my back.  And then realized I was out cold for three days after the battle.  "It will help ease the swelling."

"Thanks," I said genuinely.

Elrond stepped further into the tent, and I realized that I was still holding on to Glorfindel's hand.  Or he was still holding on to mine.  Either way, I wasn't complaining and had no qualms with leaving my hand in his.  So that's the way we walked further into the tent.

You would not _believe_ the amount of dirt that can come off someone after they've been out in the wilds for a couple of days.  I took one look at the cloth that I'd used to wash myself just now and wanted to be sick.  Dirt and dried blood have never made a good combination, and I still hadn't even washed what was on my back off, though I'd tried.  Maybe Glorfy should have done my back.  Maybe he still could…

_That thought for later,_ my inner dialogue reminded me sharply.  

Elrond sat me down on Glorfy's chair, and then moved the cloths and bowl of water I had just been using aside, setting up his own equipment.  He then went to work mixing the various ingredients together to get…

…Something that smelled worse than the Dead Marshes and the Bog of Eternal Stench together.  Well, I thought so, anyway.  Ye _gods_ it reeked!  Even worse than the smelly bastard who'd back-fisted me in the first place!  And he wanted to put that on my _face_?

"Lady, I am aware of this concoction's fragrance," Elrond began.  I guess he'd caught the look on my face as I stared at the glorpy lump of herbs and other things that he'd mixed together.  "But you must put this on your face for at least two hours to bring down the swelling."

_And thanks for completely throwing any plans of having Glorfy – or anyone, for that matter – in the same tent with me for more than two seconds at a time, you bloody bastard,_ my inner thoughts rang.  But I just sighed and accepted the mush he slathered all over my face.  After all, I wanted this bruise gone.

"You must replace this after it has dried and flaked away," Elrond said in a no-nonsense tone of voice before he left.  I was not looking forward to this, but then…well, if it got the bruising down, then I wasn't going to complain.  Even if I was going to be climbing the walls pretty soon from a frustration that I would rather not think about, since thinking about it only made it worse.

Damn…I'm a horny little she-Elf, aren't I?  Sweet Jebebus!  The chocolate couldn't have stayed in my system for _that_ long…

Anyway…moving right along…

"I will do this," Glorfy replied, "after I wash the Lady's back."  

Elrond nodded and with a barely-there grin (or smirk, I suppose), he slipped out the tent and into the camp, off to tend more wounded or do whatever else it is that Gilly's Herald does.  Glorfy – my beautiful Glorfy – turned his attention to my back the instant Elrond was gone.

I was somewhat afraid that he thought that he'd scared me, or that the Orcs had managed to do something I hadn't told him about yet, because I was trembling the entire time.  In actuality, I was keeping a tight lid on all the impulses that suddenly wanted to be let free.  It was hard work – and exhausting.

"The bruise is nearly gone from your back," Glorfy said after a tense moment.  He dipped the cloth again in the warm water.  I couldn't help but gasp when it touched a hitherto dry spot on my shoulders, and Glorfy carefully wiped away the dirt and dried blood.  

"It is?" I asked, speaking out of one side of my mouth.  The other side had some pretty nasty mush slathered all over it.  "Sweet!"

"If only you had not acquired this new injury, _melyanna_," he continued.  "I had plans."

My ears went up, along with the hair on the back of my neck.  "Really?" I asked, drawing the word out slowly.  "Do enlighten me, would you?"

I could almost _hear_ him blushing.  And then he planted a soft kiss, right on the top of my pointed right ear.  The resulting shiver caused me to grab the table, and everything on it shook a little and rattled before I could get my quivering muscles under control.  

"Is that enough information, beloved, or do you wish for more?"

I thought rationally for all of two seconds.  "Well," I said eventually, "I don't think I caught your meaning just then."

So he repeated the procedure, only with my left ear.  "And now?" he asked.

You see?  This is precisely why I didn't want him giving me a bath in the first place, at least until I'm properly healed.  Because with this bruise on my face, and the nasty mush on top of it, not to mention the healing bruise on my back, any sort of 'plans' that either Glorfy or I might have had can't come to fruition.  It's a pisser, but…well, that's the way it has to be.  For now.

"Do you understand now?" Glorfindel asked in a voice that did nothing for my condition.

"I think I'm beginning to grasp certain concepts," I answered, latching one hand onto his, where he was holding my hair away from my neck.  "But my understanding might be a little…delayed."

"Is it now?" Glorfindel asked.  It almost sounded as if he was purring.  "Well…I think some instruction will come in hand."  He kissed the back of my neck before letting go of my hair but he still held my hand as he moved around to face me from the front.  He leaned his head forward, touching his forehead to mine.      

"Glorfy?  What are – "

"Hush, sweet thing," he whispered.  "This will not hurt."

"What won't?"

He kissed me, but it was nothing I'd ever felt before.  It was almost as though a jolt went through me, warming me through and through, from tip to toe.  Everything seemed more alive in that instant, my perceptions of the tent and everything in it were clearer than they had ever been before.  I felt…something, soothing down the throbbing in my skull and back and face, and could only think it was Glorfindel, though how and why…

When he pulled back, he looked down at me with a smile, and then lifted one hand.  I instinctively flinched as he moved it towards the damaged side of my face.  I was healthily surprised when he simply brushed away the mush that Elrond had layered on my cheek, and it didn't hurt in the slightest.

"As good as new," Glorfindel said in that voice that made me quiver.  I raised my own hand to my cheek and found the bruise gone. 

"What the bloody hell?" I asked, more than a little shocked.  "How…?"

"I simply accelerated your healing," he answered.  I gave him a flat look that spoke volumes of my incomprehension

"What?"  But I grew concerned as he swayed a little and sat down on the floor of the tent somewhat heavily.  "Glorfy?" I asked, rising from the chair in which I was seated and keeling at his side.  "What's the matter?"

"It is nothing, sweetheart," he answered.  "Only that this procedure takes much energy to complete, even with so small a wound as that on your cheek.  I need only to rest, and then for only a moment."

That didn't do anything for my concern.  His face had gone pale and it gleamed slightly with a small layer of sweat.  I brushed his hair behind his ears and looked him over.  

"What the hell did you do, you foolish man?" I chided gently.  "And why didn't you just let Elrond do it?"

"Elrond needs his strength, _melyanna_," Glorfy answered slowly.  His eyes were drooping.  If I wasn't careful, I was going to get hysterical any moment.  I pulled the robe back up around me before I stood.  

"Has anyone ever told you you're a dork?" I asked.

"No, I do not believe I have ever been addressed so," Glorfy replied, quite truthfully.  

"Well, you are," I said simply, refusing to elaborate.  He wouldn't understand anyway.  "Come on," I added.  "Let's get you to bed."

"Minaimîr, you need your rest – "

"Don't even start, buddy-boy," I cut him off, offering my hand.  He looked at me for a moment, but I wasn't having any, so he heaved himself up, one hand on his desk.  

He nearly fell over again, but I caught him before he toppled.  We didn't say anything as I helped him over to the pile of blankets and cushions that served as a bed.  He didn't even say anything as I helped him pull his shirt off and lower himself down onto the bed.  I didn't know what else to say myself, so I just arranged his blankets over him, made sure he was comfortable, and then gazed at his face for a moment.  His eyes were drooping.

"Are you sure all you need is rest?" I asked eventually.  

"Aye, lovely one, I am.  I will be fine within a few hours."

"You better be," I muttered.  "Or I'm going to be pissed."

He smiled weakly at that, but then his eyes went unfocused, half closed, and his breathing became slower and more even.  I'd never seen Elves sleep before…I wondered if I did that now, of if I still hung onto the human habit of closing my eyes completely.  I know when I was little I would sometimes sleep with my eyes open – scared the crap out of my mum too.  Whether or not I did now…that remains to be seen.

Pardon the pun.

When I was sure Glorfy was gallivanting about the realm of dreams, I rose from my crouch beside him and went over to his desk, picking up his silver backed mirror.  Sure enough – and I almost dropped it when I saw my reflection – the bruise and nasty paste was gone, leaving only smooth and unbroken skin.  I flexed my shoulders a little and found that the result of being smacked on the back with the blunt end of an axe was gone too, leaving my movements free and unrestrained.  This, I realized, was _perfect_!  I quickly smothered my giggle, though, because I didn't want to wake Glorfy.  I wanted him to be in tip-top shape when he woke up, because I had plans.

No, I'm not going to tell you what those plans were.  You'll just have to guess for yourself, now won't you?

To keep myself occupied, I washed my hair in the left over water, though it was now a little cold (and dirtier than I care to think of), and put some cleaner clothes on so I wouldn't have to run about in Glorfy's robe.  The soft shirt that I put on was Glorfy's though, and was hopelessly huge on me.  Not that I minded in the slightest, that is.  Even if the neckline had some odd ideas about how far down it was going whenever I bent over.

I wrote a little more to catch myself up while I watched Glorfy sleep, but eventually I got restless and moved around the tent, picking up the various bits of clothing I'd left scattered before moving into the outer portion of the tent to see what I could do about the mess of armor and paper that Glorfy had made before Elrond had shown up.  

I started with the paper on the floor first, piling it together.  It was when I was nearly finished that the first picture caught my eye.

Pictures?  Oh, aye, pictures.  Seems my Glorfy-kins has an excellent talent with a pencil…especially when he's drawing…me…

My eyebrows shot up when I realized just _when_ these pictures had been drawn.  Especially the most recent one…of my back…and my leg on the desk…  It wasn't finished.  I guess this was what he was doing when he tripped, but…wow.  They were excellent, even though I had been the unwitting model for his art.  

I wondered if I should be mortified or shocked or upset, because he'd drawn me without my permission.  That thought was put down as quickly as it popped up.  Who cares?  I was flattered that he thought me a worthy subject to draw.  Besides…the number of times I'd drawn people based on hot celebrities just don't bother counting.

I piled the pictures – drawn on parchment likely horded – together neatly and then set to work picking up the pencils and the box they'd been in before Glorfy had dropped it and then tripped over the crate he'd been sitting on.  

The armor was a bit more of a problem to arrange.  Do you know how hard it is to pile that stuff without it clanking?  And especially when it's _that_ farkin' heavy?  A total pisser, that was, but I did it anyway because the other alternative was to stand in the middle of the tent and do nothing at all.

And, of course…I could go to sleep…

Later, later…definitely thoughts for later, or else I'd never get the damn armor picked up.  I'd end up rushing it, and it would clank and be noisy, and wake Glorfy up, and he needed his rest.

He needed plenty of rest.

And, come to think of it, rest might just be a good idea.  I yawned and stretched…and froze as a thought hit me, and hit me hard.  Something was wrong with Fiona.

To this day, I don't know where my feelings like this come from, but I think they're related to Fe's uncanny ability to find me when I'm hiding, or the numerous occasions when we'll speak as one.  But wherever they come from, however I knew, Fiona was emotionally distraught and it was something I felt I needed to see to.  

So, without any boots, without changing into my own clothes or doing anything with my hair, I sped out of the tent, startling a pair of guards that I hadn't even noticed and who didn't even yell after me until I was already a good distance away, down the row of tents towards…

I didn't even know where I was going.  My inner dialogue pointed out several times that I was being silly, but there was still the felling that something was not quite right with my twin.  So I ran on.  And ran smack into Fiona being escorted by Elrond back to wherever it was she was going, and looking quite…subdued?  Relieved?  What the hell had happened?

I asked her as much.  

"What's the matter?" Fiona asked when I finally panted my question at her.  "Why aren't you dressed?"  She frowned as I caught my breath.  "What happened with your face?" she asked before I could get my own questions out.  Elrond didn't help matters any by grabbing my chin and examining my face in the mid-afternoon light.  His blue-gray eyes widened a little bit.

"Glorfindel," he said after a moment.  I couldn't understand the tone in his voice.  Something between anger and annoyance and…fear?  Nah…not fear.    

"Yeah, he pulled some healing-speeder-upper thing on me," I said, backing up so I could reclaim my chin and talk to my twin.  "Fiona, what's the matter?  Why were you emotionally distraught?"

"What?" she asked, obviously confused.  So I explained to her why I was running about the camp in an oversized shirt belonging to one of Gilly's generals, and she explained to me why she'd been emotionally distraught just now.  Because she'd arrived at the main pavilion just in time to stop the Alliance from breaking up and had had to gather a great bit of courage about her to do so.  

I nearly sat down with relief when I realized it wasn't because Isildur had tried anything else, or because…well, I didn't really think there were any other reasons.  I was just glad that everything was all right.  

"Don't do that," I said when she was finished.

"Do what?" she asked.  

"Scare me like that.  Even if you don't really know how, just don't."

She smiled and shook her head.  "I'll try," she said, "if you promise the same."  I smiled myself.

Elrond interrupted us, as usual.  "My Ladies, I believe it prudent for you to return to the tents from whence you came," he said.

I nodded, thinking of a sleeping Glorfindel I was just itching to snuggle up to.  

"Wait, though," Fiona said, looking between Elrond and I.  "Elrond, would not now be a good moment for that…" her face started going red and I had to wonder just what was going on now,  "…um…discussion?" she finished.

Elrond watched her curiously.  Watched me curiously too, probably wondering why I wasn't blushing too along side my twin.  Truthfully, I had no idea at the time what it was Fiona had planned.  Elrond's eyebrow went up.  I have yet to work out if that is a good sign or not.  

"My orders were to escort the Lady Anórmír to the Lord Gil-galad's tent," Elrond replied, a trifle dubiously.  "Can this discussion wait?"

I looked to Fiona.  She was the one who knew what was going on, after all.

"Might we sit awhile in the antechamber of my Lord's tent?" she asked after a moment.  

"Glorfy's sleeping," I added, though not really sure if that had any bearing on the matter that was apparently about to be discussed.

"Can we not sit and speak of it until my Lord returns?" I really had no idea why Fe was so intent on this.  

Either way, Elrond nodded, and moments later we were off to Gilly's tent.

I wish Fiona had never brought this up.  

Well, that's not entirely true.  I'm exceedingly glad that I now have all the facts, as it were, about Elf birds and Elf bees, but…

I suppose Elrond was the best person to ask, because Elrond is, after all, a healer.  Healers know these things.  But I think it probably would have gone better if another female had explained it.  But, to the best of my knowledge, there weren't any other females in the camps (I'm still not sure about this, so don't quote me), which left Elrond here as the best source of information about…

Okay, I'm just going to be blunt.  Elf sex.  That's what we were asking about: Elf sex.  All the how's and what's we could think of.  Elrond was gracious enough not to laugh, and he actually gave direct answers about the whole lot of silly questions we had, however much they were worded along the lines of, "what…I mean…well, obviously you…do Elves have…um…" and were usually the cause of many, many blushes on our parts.  

I think Elrond's ears went a bit pink at one point, but…could have been the lighting.

Anyway, Fiona got really quiet after Elrond announced that bonded couples could hear one another's thoughts and speak to one another that way, and through that bond the female readied…well, 'for begetting' was how Elrond put it.  I had to do most of the asking after that, and I swear that they were some of the hardest questions I've ever asked.

Eventually Elrond just took pity on us and explained everything he could think of, covering all bases.  Fe and I tried to push some of the colour out of our cheeks, but it was slow going.  

            Especially when Elrond starts going on like this:  

            "The normal cycle of an Elven maiden in heat" – in heat! – "lasts for seven days, where in the chances of her begetting a child are extremely high."

            Seven bloody days!  Good mother; that has got to _suck_.  But wait, there's more!

            "During this time, a maiden will lay with her bonded mate as many times as is required for…"

            I let his words continue, unheeded.  I couldn't have really paid much attention just then anyway, because the tent flaps moved aside and the high king himself strode into the tent, quite obviously surprised to find the three of us sitting there, with our faces various shades of red.  I thought Fiona was going to pass out from the embarrassment of it all.

            Gilly, though, thankfully has a sense of humor about some things.  He just grinned at our discomfort.  

            "Please," he said, moving about the tent.  "Continue with your discussion."

            "Um, I think – " Fiona and I started at the same time, and then shared a look and a frantic giggle.  

"Later," I said firmly, to keep Elrond from starting up with his bland discussion of exactly _how_ one goes about the task of 'begetting'.  I rose – a sudden urge to get some fresh air striking me just then – and had to adjust Glorfy's shirt about my shoulders before I gave Fiona a hug.  

"We'll talk later," she said as she returned my hug.  "Thank you, Elrond," she said after we pulled apart.  "We may wish to…" her face started going red again, "go over some details later."

"As you wish," Elrond said with a small bow.  "My Lady Minaimîr, may I escort you to the Lord Glorfindel's tent?"

I nodded, waved jauntily to Gilly, cast a look that said, "be good" to Fiona and slipped out the tent with Elrond close behind.  I couldn't help grinning as I wondered what Fiona and Gilly were going to get up to.  And then had to shove some particularly nasty – to my mind – images out of my head before they made me too ill.

It helped that Elrond didn't say much on our way back over to Glorfy's tent.  There was much that was going on in my head, not the least of it the information that Elrond had just imparted.  My mind kept drifting over to thoughts of the most deliciously gorgeous Golden Elf awaiting me in my – his…why do I keep thinking 'my? – tent.  Well, he was still sleeping, so I can't really say 'awaiting', but…

I couldn't help but sigh, which earned a slightly amused look from Elrond.  A giggle got a more amused look a few moments later, when I considered surprising Glorfy with my newfound knowledge.  I think Elrond almost smiled that time.

Elrond left me at the entrance to the tent.  One of the guards was missing, and I had to grin at the thought that he was running about the camp searching for me, when I was right here.  Still though, I had to feel bad for the poor Elf.  The other had obviously been guarding Glorfy the entire time I was away.  I grinned at him, largely just to see what would happen.  I think he smiled in return, but…well, you can never tell with Elves.

"Lady Minaimîr." Elrond's voice stopped me partially inside the tent.

"Yes?" I turned.

"For future reference, wearing a thicker garment would perhaps be wise."

I frowned, a feeling of dread sneaking in.  I looked down.  

With a frozen grin and a toneless, "thank you for escorting me, Lord Elrond.  Our talk was very interesting," I let the tent flap drop and then tried very hard no to fall over.

It hadn't occurred to me that I wore a rather thin shirt.  And it hadn't occurred to me either that my hair was wet, from washing it.  

Oh bloody hell.  

Glorfy was still asleep when I got to the inner sanctum, as I liked to call it, and the sight of him drove any thoughts of our discussion with Elrond, or my somewhat see-through shirt right out of my mind.  At least, I think he was still asleep.  His eyes _were_ half open, and I'd never seen Elves sleep before, so I waited a few moments before folding the covers back slightly and crawling under to see if he'd move or say anything.  When he didn't, I just snuggled right up to him and heaved a sigh, head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat loud and soothing to my ears.

After a while, I yawned.  I hadn't even realized I'd gone to sleep…

…Until a feather light touch to the tip of one ear startled me so badly that I nearly hurt whoever it was who'd touched me.  Having been woken once in the middle of the night and dragged off had left me more wary that I realized, but I quickly noted the source of the touches this time to be one Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, and smiled at his somewhat startled expression.

"Sorry," I murmured (muttered, really, but…whatever) and wriggled my way closer into his arms.  "Startled me."

He shot one of those spine-tingly smiles at me and tightened his arms.  I wanted to sigh in contentment, and so I did.  Best way to wake up ever – in the arms of a super hot Elf who sees you as his hope.

"Feel any better?" I asked, one hand moving up to trace that wonderful jaw line of his.  

"Like a new Elf," Glorfy replied, and I had to smile at that.  "The more so for your presence beside me."  Nearly split my face in two with the next smile.

"Glad I could be of service," I replied, my unoccupied hand finding a ticklish spot on his ribs.  He shot up into the air fast and before I realized what was happening, had my arms pinned above my head, his hair falling long over his shoulders to tickle my face with the ends.

I never thought – well, really, never allowed myself to think – that I'd ever see so wild a look in anyone's eyes, least of all him, and least of all direct at me.  But there it was, and there I was, and he was grinning like a fiend, and…

"You know, I learned a few things from Elrond today," I said as conversationally as I could manage, trying to shift my arms to get them loose.  Now that I was free of my bruises, and that Glorfy was all nice and rested, things were most definitely 'looking up', as it were.

"Really?" Never thought a word could sound so much like a purr.  "What of, _melyanna_?"

"Well," I began and then hesitated.  I could feel heat in my cheeks, and it wasn't entirely from my sudden embarrassment.

"Ah.  You learned of begetting."

Why do they have to use that word?  And why do I have to be so damn embarrassed about this?  And how the hell did he know?  But I didn't get to muse further, because Glorfy was…well, taking other business further.

"Do you need further instruction?" he asked.

I found myself unable to answer.  My tongue was literally stuck to the roof of my mouth.  It was an uncomfortable situation, despite the _very_ comfortable weight of Glorfindel that held me pinned to the cushions and blankets and rugs.

"Shall I take that as an 'aye'?" 

It was all I could do to nod.  I tried pulling against his hands when one let go, but to no avail.  His deliciously long fingers slid slightly over the fabric of the shirt I wore, barely making contact with the skin beneath.  'Torture' doesn't even begin to cover what I went through just then.  Several words don't begin to cover that, so I'm not going to even try.  I'll leave that to your imagination.  

He stopped when he reached my hips and then favored me with a mischievously evil grin.

"Did you enjoy that?"

No words.  I'm a woman who prides myself on having words, who tends to think in stories and has many words with herself on numerous occasions.  But, at that moment, there weren't any.  I couldn't even say "yes", which is really what I wanted to say.  Either that, or "do that again!"  All I could do was stare up at him and try to calm my breathing down and…

"My Lord Glorfindel!" someone was shouting.  There was the sound of tent flaps being moved aside, and then…

And then, Gildor shoved his head into the 'inner sanctum'.  And froze.

"Yes?" Glorfindel all but growled, releasing me and sitting up, taking most of the covers with him.  How I wanted to hide under those covers!

"The…um…the Lord Elendil, that is…um…"

"Out with it, Gildor."  Now he was growling.  I put my hand on his arm, in the hopes that he'd remember that a) I was there, and b) he wasn't to do anything stupid.  He turned and looked at me; I tried very, very hard to keep the colour from my face, to keep the embarrassment from blurring my mind and to keep the disappointment to an absolute minimum.  _Just_ when things were getting interesting!  But still, I wasn't going to let him do anything stupid, like kill Gildor just because Gildor's timing was most unfortunate.

Gildor turned his back and let the flap drop.  He seemed to find it easier to speak when he wasn't on the receiving end of a dangerously annoyed Glorfy Glare.

"The Lord Elendil wishes to speak with you."

"What of?"

"I know not, only that he insists upon meeting you in the command pavilion as soon as is possible."

I felt like growling myself.  Instead, I sighed and leaned my head against Glorfy's arm.  "Go," I said. 

"You are sure?" Glorfindel asked, quite obviously just _searching_ for any excuse to abandon his need to see to Elendil and spend the remainder of the night (for indeed, the sun had sank while we'd slept.  Someone had come in and lit a couple of lanterns) ensconced in the tent. 

"Yes, you loveable blockhead, I am.  Just be damned quick about it, or I'll have to put my newfound knowledge to the test when you return."

"I expect no less, Minaimîr," he said with a smile and kissed me.  I think it had probably meant to be a chaste kiss, but…well, I hadn't seen him for a few days, _and_ I'd been wounded something nasty recently.

"My Lord?" Gildor was starting to get anxious.

Glorfindel broke away.  "I am coming," he said, and I had to force down some _very_ naughty thoughts at that.  I have a dirty, dirty mind, at times, it seems, and my hot Elf doesn't help that very much.  With another kiss – on the forehead, this one – Glorfy rose and grabbed the first shirt he came to, and shoved it on.  I flopped over onto my stomach and watched him, chin in hand, a silly grin on my face.  

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'll tell you when you get back." 

"Whatever you say, _melyanna_," he replied.  He fastened his cloak about his throat and with a flourishing bow, slipped out of the 'inner sanctum'

I had to giggle, though, even if I was extremely disappointed.  How long, I wondered, until he noticed that he'd put on _my_ shirt? 

When Glorfindel did return, a small eternity later, he looked extremely annoyed.  

"Elendil wishes to see you fight, _melyanna_, in controlled circumstances."

"What the bloody hell for?" I wasn't going back to the battles.  I wasn't.  Well, only for two reasons: 1) Fe was – I wouldn't let her go alone into that mess; not for a million dollars, and 2) Glorfy was down and I – as he put it – was his only hope.  And even then, I'd probably die horribly.

"He has come to the conclusion that one sent by the Valar must be trained."

"I'm not going near that battle, Glorfy."  I gave voice to my thoughts.  "Not unless Fe or you need me."  

"I would not have you so near a battle again, _melyanna_.  Not for a sight of the Two Trees."

I stared at him.  I'd read enough of _The Silmarillion_ to know what he meant by the Two Trees.  But I kept my peace on that.  

"Well, I hope you told him my military career is quite over," I said, though I suspected the opposite.  From the looks of it, there would be another good seven years before this was over, and there were doubtlessly going to be so many more encounters with death on both our parts that we'd never want to go near meat again.     

"I informed the King as to your standing.  He seemed to feel that it did not matter, that if we are to win this battle, then the help of the Valar must not be scorned."

"Well, if I was really sent by the Valar, don't you think they would have told us before they dropped us off?"  

I must point out, however that my brain was not really working at that point.  Not only did Glorfy stand in front of me, looking damn hot in his agitation, but the shirt he'd thrown on – mine – was stretched tightly across his chest and arms, and looked more like it'd been spray-painted on.  I had to wonder how he'd even fit into it and not notice anything wrong.  But I was drinking in an eyeful, and so lost track of what he was saying.

"Minaimîr?" 

"What?" I asked, blinking in surprise.  

"Were you listening?  I said that the Valar do not always make their intentions known as they act, if indeed they intercede in our world at all."

"Oh.  Sorry.  I was staring at my shirt being stretched out of proportion by your deliciously formed muscles."  Did that just come out of my mouth?  I think it might have.

The look on his face was – to be cliché – priceless.  I thought his jaw was going to fall off.  And then he looked down at his arms and seemed to notice for the first time that he was not only wearing my shirt, but that the sleeves stopped before they made it past his forearms.

His face went the colour of apples combined with a hint of crimson and perhaps a little bit of sunset red too.  The only other person I've seen half that colour has been me.  And perhaps Elrond earlier, when he was imparting his wisdom.  Either way, precious Elvish dignity or not, there was no way I could have kept back the laugh that bubbled it's way out of me just then.

And then, something miraculous happened.  After a moment, Glorfindel laughed too, with a golden laugh that I don't think had been heard this hearty for a long, long time.  He laughed so hard he had to sink to his knees and hold his sides.  It was all I could do to not to fall over myself.

He bent forward to support himself on the ground.  He laughed so hard that he couldn't even support himself properly.  The shirt of mine that he wore ripped along the seams.  We only laughed harder…until I began to notice that his smooth, creamy skin was showing through the holes…and that his hair was wild about his face…and that…I was so close…

Slowly, we calmed, until our hearty laugh was more tremors through our shoulders, half uttered giggles as we stared wild-eyed at one another.

"You tickled me earlier," he said.  I swallowed hard.

"I did," I whispered.

"I told you once to not touch me there unless you wish to invite retribution, _melyanna_."  

"You did."  It was all I could manage.

And the next I knew, Glorfy was kissing me again and then…            

Well, to put it tactfully, what happened after that isn't any of your business.  But I did learn _a lot_ more about Elves than Elrond could have taught me with a book filled with complete illustrations and diagrams.

Learned a lot about life in general that I hadn't really realized too.  Like, for instance, Glorfy Is Merciless Upon Those Who Tickle Him.  And, my all time favorite, Never Tickle a Male Elf Without Expecting Repercussions.

Not that I really minded the 'repercussions' of tickling Glorfindel the Golden.  I just woke up the next day extremely giddy and with the sneaking suspicion that there had been something that I'd been missing out on, but now was…clued in.  It was hard, afterwards, to think that even that morning I had wanted to wait, to not do _anything_ that could have this result but…well, I guess that 'I'm not ready' excuse was too feeble to last in the face of such a beautiful creature.  And that knowledge is the most wonderful sensation…save a few.  Like…well…hee hee hee!

Anyway, Glorfy and I are now…um…closer…than before.  Much closer.  

So close, in fact, that I can hear what he's thinking.  I'm pretty sure that this is what Elrond meant when he was yammering about 'bonded pairs' in the midst of all that talk of begetting.

But the one thing that I was most grateful for was that, _this _time, no one saw fit to barge in.  It truly was the 'reunion celebration' that I'd been waiting for.  

Hee hee hee!

_Melyanna_.  Glorfindel has called me that name more times than I can count, but I had never known what it meant until we…'bonded'.  'Dear gift', I am to him.  If only I knew an endearment in my own native language (English, as you know) that would be as special to him as '_melyanna_' is to me!  And this beautiful word, with it's beautiful meaning, echoed lightly inside my head from the absolutely gorgeous Elf who is my 'bond mate', as Elrond referred to them, and who – at the moment – is out doing whatever it is that generals do, while I…I sit and write.  

So I thought love back.  I know that doesn't make any sense, but…well, that's what I was doing, and he seemed to know because…well, traditionally, in books, there would be talk of 'knots of emotion' and so forth.  I'd never been telepathic before now, so I guess those descriptions work to give a close approximation of what it's _really_ like.  I can't describe what it's really like because…it's one of those intuitive things.  You know when they happen, but other than that…no words in the English language – or in the Elvish, that I've come across – can _really_ express what it means to share this sort of bond.

Hee hee hee!

I know writing out my giggles isn't as effective as you hearing them.  But saying, "I just giggled," over and over again is just poor writing; I have a reputation.

Anyway, to get back on topic, it occurred to me after my…(hee hee!) bonding…why it is that Fiona sometimes cocks her head to the side slightly as though she's listening to something, or why it is she and Gilly will look at each other with enough expressions on their faces for a thousand conversations, but never a word passing their lips.

Waaaaait…does that mean…?

Nah…she would have mentioned if something like…

Okay, maybe she wouldn't mention it.  The embarrassment would probably kill her, not to mention it's an intensely…well, personal happenstance.  It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if she decided to try to keep it to herself.  And I say 'try' for a very good reason.

Because I know her too well.  If she and Gilly had bonded like Glorfy and I (hee hee!) then there would be Signs, and I don't just mean the occasional silent conversation with Gilly-boy.  I'm talking S_igns_.  Occasional bouts of giggling, blushing for no apparent reason…

…Like me, whenever I think of…hee hee hee!     

See?  I can't even write an insinuating sentence without giggling like a schoolgirl on crack.  This is fun.

But back to the story.  It occurred to me just now that I'd gone off on a tangent.

As I was saying, _thinking_ emotion and writing about how you're thinking emotion are two…I don't know.  But I _thought_ love and all sorts of things that go along with that at my Gorgeous Glorfy, and I got amusement in return.  Gentle amusement, really.

_What's funny?_ I asked.  Here's another process I can't describe: the actual sending of thought-words from one mind to another.  I'm not going to even try with this – my brain gets scrambled thinking about anything more complicated then…men.  Nothing is more complicated than a man.  Well, besides Calculus.  And then, not if you're one of those enviable types who can look at numbers and see a pattern, which I am most certainly not.  I can't even add simple digits without a calculator.

Good mother!  My mind wanders more now than it did before my…bonding.  Back to the story…

_Your tone of mind when you write_, Glorfindel replied.  _You concentrate so hard, and then your mind is taken quickly by memories of…_he trailed off, and I got images instead.  Images of…hee hee hee!  I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks at the thoughts of those images, and I tried to suppress the blushes.  But, then again, I was alone in our – now that we'd…bonded…the tent was indeed 'ours' – tent.  I stopped trying to suppress the blushes that no one could see and thought about all the ways I was going to get back at Glorfindel, deliberately letting him 'hear'.  

_Really, Minaimîr, is that necessary?_ Glorfy asked after a particularly…um…risqué image involving handcuffs, some oil, and a couple of feathers appeared in my mind and was instantly transferred to his.  And, by the way, I now know what name my Golden one gave me, all that time ago, means.  'Unique treasure'.  Why didn't he just tell me back then?  I asked him, but I only got a grin in response.  I'm going to have to catch him off guard next time, which is going to be hard considering…

_Minaimîr?_

_Sorry,_ I replied.  _My mind wandered again._

_You need to learn focus, melyanna_, he chided gently.  _Or else you could cause my mind to go wandering with yours.  A journey I would welcome, but my King would say otherwise if it occurred in the midst of a council_.

I replied with the telepathic equivalent of sticking my tongue out and got a chuckle in return.  

"Rhiannon?"  Fiona called from the front of the tent.  

"I'm back here!" I answered.  _Fiona's here,_ I added to Glorfy.  _Just a minute_.  

_As you wish, melyanna._  

A moment later, Fiona stuck her head into the 'inner sanctum.'

"Hey," she said.  I turned on the folding chair in front of Glorfy's desk to face her.  She stopped, and gave me a considering look, head to one side.  "There's something different about you."

"Umm…my face is no longer bruised all to hell," I ventured.  Hah.  She didn't tell me about her bonding, so I'm not going to tell her about mine…for now.  At least, until I get excited about it and can't contain it any more.  "And I can move my shoulders."  I grinned and demonstrated.

Her eyes narrowed.  "Yeah," she said slowly.  "There is a glow to your face.  Must be that healing trick that Glorfy pulled."

Healing trick indeed.  Well, she was right in some ways – Glorfy _does_ know some…tricks.

"Probably," I replied.  I couldn't help but grin.  My face was probably bright red too, but I was hoping she'd just think it a result of thinking about Glorfy.

"You bonded him!"  Her eyes had gone wide with realization.  Her hands went to her hips in an unconscious gesture.  I don't think she even realized she'd done it.

I froze.  I realized vaguely that my arm had frozen in place and the pen was dripping something awful onto the desk. 

"Hah!" she continued when I didn't immediately answer, and the heat in my cheeks could rival Mount Doom's magma chambers.  "You did!  You bonded with Glorfindel!"

"Well you bonded Gilly first!" I retorted hotly.  "And you didn't even bother to tell me!"  I tried not to feel too wounded at that.  It's not as though I'm the trust worthiest of people (if ever there were an understatement…), but I _am_ her twin after all.    

"How the bloody hell do you know that?" Fiona asked.  Her jaw had dropped and colour had drained from her face.

"I'm your twin," I replied simply.  "Not to mention, you run around half the time looking like you're having a conversation with him when neither of you are speaking a bloody word.  _And_ you got all quiet when Elrond was blathering about 'bonded pairs' being able to hear one another's thoughts. Don't worry, though," I continued, perhaps a trifle bitterly.  "I understand why you didn't tell me.  Eru knows I would have blathered the story out at some point before this war is over."  Besides: people need their secrets.  They need to have things they can keep separate from the common world.  It's one of the fundamental reasons why communism doesn't work.  But that's a side thought.

We stared at one another for a while, both wondering who would be the first to apologize.  I stood from the folding chair I was sitting on and moved in front of her.  

"I'm sorry."  

Twins to the bone, we said it at the same time.  

 "Anyway," Fiona said eventually, surreptitiously wiping away a tear or two.  She wasn't the only one.  She released me from the hug.  "It's nearly time for lunch – you hungry?"

My stomach growled, answering the question for me.  "Um, yeah," I said with a giggle and a sniffle.  "I can't remember the last time I ate.  I think it might have been the rabbit."

"Urgh!  Don't remind me!"  Fiona shook her head, cringing.

"Sorry."

She shook her head again and grinned.  And then sniffled.  

I closed the book that Elrond had given me to write in and put the stopper back in the bottle of ink I'd been using.  It's taken some getting used to, but this old fashioned style of writing is fun.  Even having to re-dip the pen (quill, really) every couple of minutes isn't as frustrating as it could have been. 

We left the tent together.  I couldn't help but notice that everything outside had taken on a new glow of it's own.  Colours seemed richer against the dark black mud of the ground; sounds were clearer – I swear that I could hear what was happening over in the Laiquendi's camp, and not just because of my new Elf ears either.  Everything just looked so…_new_.

_Is all well, melyanna,_ Glorfindel asked, startling the crap out of me.  I caught myself looking around for him, to see if he was really standing over my shoulder.

_Yeah,_ I answered when I realized he wasn't actually there.  Fiona was giving me a knowing look.  _Everything's good_. 

_Are you sure?_

_Don't worry.  Sisters argue.  It happens.  All's good_.

_Then I am glad,_ he said.  And then his presence…faded.  Or something.  I dunno.  I don't quite know how to describe it.  It's just another one of those things.

 "What are you grinning at?" Fiona asked after a while.  She was grinning herself.

  We'd been walking in silence.  I looked up at her, startled.  I'd been off in my own little world again.

"What?  Oh…nothing, really," I said simply.  "Just…"

"Glorfindel?" she asked shrewdly.

"Hee hee!"

"I thought as much."

We walked in silence again for a while.  I could feel Glorfy chuckling in the back of my mind again, but I didn't care.  

"Rhiannon, what _are_ you doing?"  Her eyebrow had risen.

I stopped twirling.  "Dancing," I said simply.  I started singing a tuneless little song as I danced down the rows of tents.  Passing soldiers – Elves, mostly – stopped as I went by, mostly to smile and shake their heads before returning to their tasks.  One or two of them looked disapproving, as though I should dance in a place so sombre.  No doubt they thought that, surrounded by so much death and destruction, light-heartedness is too…disrespectful to those who'd died.  So I grinned at them.  

What can I say?  It felt good to be alive. Oh, aye, death and destruction have been happening.  I'd seen it first hand when I'd charged the battlefield with Fiona. But I'm _alive_, and so help me, I'm going to have fun while I still can.  Anyone who's been reading this journal will no doubt know that quite well, by now, but there were a good many in the camp who couldn't have.  

People need to laugh.  It's a lot better than crying.                  

"Could you quit that?" Fiona asked with a smile, though a tad testily.  "I need to talk to you."

I stopped mid twirl and looked back to where Fiona was.  She caught up quickly.

"What's up?" I said, wishing I could dance some more.  But we were nearing the dining tent anyway.  

She explained her plan over lunch, in a hushed voice, and as quickly as possible.  There was only one thing I could say, when she finally finished.

I sighed, the food on my plate forgotten, and put my head in my hands.  

"Fiona," I said firmly when I finally looked up, "you're bloody nuts!"  She winced and I realized that I'd spoken a little loudly.  I looked around, and tried to keep my voice down.  "This plan is even stupider than something that _I_ would come up with!  It's the dumbest damn plan you've ever had!  Not only are we going to end up dead from this, but – on the off chance we make it back alive – our respective Elves are going to _kill_ us just for trying!  Do you have any idea what this'll do to them?"  

She sighed, and looked down.  "I know.  But what else can we do?"  I shrugged.  What I said next were, perhaps, the hardest words to ever come out of my mouth.  To this day I do not regret them.  

"When do we start?"  


	22. Getting Into Lots of Trouble

A/N: I have been working on this! My co-author BoL and I talk about where were going to go with the story almost constantly. Okay, I can't be stuffed babbling anymore…Happy New Year! And enjoy ;o)

******************************************************************************

   After dinner with Ereinion, he escorted me back to his tent with a quick kiss and whispered to me instructions to go to sleep, because he would be up late writing a number of reports the required his immediate attention. I was somewhat disappointed by that, but all the same- at least I'd get uninterrupted sleep.

   I hadn't realised just how exhausted I had been because of everything until I woke up late the next morning. There was no sight of Ereinion, though a quick check with my mind revealed that he was in the middle of yet another meeting (it seemed that was all anybody ever did in the Last Alliance.) and since the guards didn't make to hold me captive in the tent, I took the opportunity to go to my sister Rhiannon and tell her my Plan.

   Upon entering Glorfindel's tent- where else would she have been?- I called, "Rhiannon?"

   "Back here!" came the reply.

   "Hey," I greeted as I strolled into the inner section of the tent after checking that Glorfindel wasn't there. Rhiannon turned, but immediately I could tell… "There's something different about you."

   Rhiannon, guilty look on her face that wouldn't deceive anybody, suggested, "Well…my face is no longer bruised all to hell." Her guilty look changed to one of unquestionable defiance, the sort of look she adopts when she's indignant about something. "And I can move my shoulders." She added.

   I was not fooled, but decided to play along. "Yeah. There is a glow to your face; it must be that healing trick that Glorfindel did."

   "Probably." Rhiannon's cheeks reddened and realisation hit me.

   "You've bonded with him!" I squealed, looking at her, just daring her to deny it.

   Rhiannon's look was that of a deer that stands frozen still, caught in a truck's headlights.

   "Hah!" I shrieked in delight and victory. "You did! You bonded with Glorfindel!"

   "Well, you bonded with Gilly first!" she retorted hotly, trying to turn the tables. "And you didn't even bother to tell me!"

      "How the bloody hell do you know that?" I asked, just trying to figure out who'd told her- not me or Ereinion- and when she turned the accusation back I me, I realised that it had hurt her. But I hadn't known what bonding was at the time and I hadn't been given a real opportunity to tell her…but still…

            "I'm your twin," she replied. "Not to mention, you run around half the time looking like you're having a conversation with him when neither of you are speaking a bloody word. _And_ you got all quiet when Elrond was blathering about 'bonded pairs' being able to hear one another's thoughts." As she spoke, she seemed to realise that the evidence had been before her all along. I felt bad for not telling her…but in defence, it was between Ereinion and me, and given that I hadn't really understood what it was or what it meant and then we'd ended up kidnapped, I hadn't been given a chance to rethink about telling her or not. Rhiannon continued, unaware of my own guilt. "Don't worry though," she added bitterly. "I understand why you didn't tell me. Eru knows I would have blathered the story out at some point before this war is over."

    Actually, that thought had never crossed my mind. I felt a trickle of relief that I hadn't told her, but quickly squashed it.

   We stared at each other for a moment before we said in unison, "I'm sorry."

   After another moment's silence, I suggested, "Lunch?"

   Walking in the direction of the dining tent, Rhiannon seemed to palpably leap off the ground, startled. She looked around before realising that the speaker wasn't as near as he sounded. I was well aware what was causing her to act like that; Glorfindel. I hadn't yet told her my plan, and I was glad that I had decided to wait. Or we'd have been caught doing something we knew we shouldn't be, yet again.

   When it seemed Glorfindel had finished talking, Rhiannon was grinning. It was contagious; without knowing what for, I started grinning too. "What are you grinning at?" I asked curiously.

   "What? Oh…nothing, really," Rhiannon stuttered. "Just…"

   "Glorfindel?" I raised an eyebrow.

   "Hee hee!" Rhiannon giggled.

   "I thought as much."

   We were silent once more, but obvious Glorfindel was back in Rhiannon's mind for she started spinning round and round as we walked along.

   "What are you doing?"  I asked. I shouldn't have asked what was obvious, but I was hoping for an explanation, seeing as she wasn't letting me in on her chat with Glorfindel.

   "Dancing," she replied, after a moment's thought. She immediately resumed dancing, adding to it a little song I could tell she was making up on the spot. I felt a little embarrassed to be accompanying her at that point, but I have gotten used to Rhiannon's idiosyncrasies and just smiled as we walked past a number of Elves who also couldn't help smiling at her antics. 

   It was cute for the first five minutes, but then my mind went back as always to my plan and her twirling started annoying me.

   "Will you quit that?" I asked, still smiling but my anxious mood broke through my tone. "I need to talk to you."

   Rhiannon caught my uneasiness and stopped. "What's up?"

   With the dining tent in sight, I didn't reply straight away, but it was soon after that, over lunch, that I told her my plan. I said it quietly, but not a whisper- 'cause other wise it would've been obvious that we were trying to hide something- and nobody paid either of us any attention.

   Rhiannon sighed as I finished. It was the kind of sigh one makes when dealing with an over-enthusiastic child. I felt stupid at that point and sometimes wished I didn't fit the blonde stereotype quite so often. I almost regretted having said anything at all, except that I had a firm belief that this was the only way we could help.

  "Fiona, you're bloody nuts!" she exclaimed firmly. I winced at the volume of her voice. Making a quick check to make sure no one was listening, she continued. "This plan is even stupider than something _I_ would come up with!" Then I'm at an all-time low then…but it seemed such a good idea at the time! "It's the dumbest damn plan you've ever had!" I tried not cringe like an admonished child. The number of times she'd come up with hair-brained ideas- most of which she never bothered to inform me about before she put them into motion- and I'd gone along with it…surely…surely, she could just go along with one of my crazy ones for once. Usually I'm the sensible one, and Rhiannon's the nut-case, but it seemed our roles had suddenly become reversed and I was failing miserably at being 'wild'. But Rhiannon hadn't stopped her appraisal of my idea. "Not only are we going to end up dead from this, but – on the off chance we make it back alive – our respective Elves are going to _kill us just for trying! Do you have any idea what this'll do to them?"_

   I kept my face down, trying not to let her see that tears were slowly forming in my eyes. I wanted to help! "I know." I said softly. "But what else can we do?" I looked up, knowing that she wouldn't have any betters ideas.

   Rhiannon shrugged and snorted with an unidentifiable emotion. "So when do we start?"

   Given how reluctant my twin sister had been, she was very helpful in pointing out some of the minor flaws I'd made, and making sure that my- _our_ plan, now- gave us maximum possibility of being put into action and for us to have a chance of getting out of it alive. For example, how I would keep this from Ereinion since we were bonded and thus our minds linked together. It was a miracle that he hadn't found out already…I was very glad I hadn't thought more about the plan, or else we would have been imprisoned in a tent and guarded constantly once Ereinion discovered what we were planning to do.

   I hadn't anticipated that we might need to act fast, but this obvious flaw Rhiannon had cleverly thought out (I'm so glad she did! The trouble I would've been in with Ereinion for thinking up such an absurdly impossible and dangerous idea!), made it necessary that we put the plan into motion immediately.

   First of all, we were careful not to think anything that would transfer itself to the mind of Glorfindel or Ereinion. Secondly, we had a few implements that we would need to prepare beforehand.

   Rhiannon headed off to our old tent while I went back to Ereinion's to retrieve my backpack. I toyed with the notion of just sneaking what I needed back underneath my tunic, but decided either it'd be too obvious or that it was entirely possible that Ereinion would come back and then demand to know what I was doing and we'd be busted- so definitely, I was taking the whole bag.

   It was only on my way out that the guards made any move.

   "Lady Anórmír?" one of the said, standing my way. I raised my eyebrows to indicate that I wasn't sure what he wanted. "You are not going anywhere?"

   "My sister and I wanted to catch up on stuff- that is, talk about times past- and I needed my bag, since it's got some of the stuff from home in it and we were going to go over it for a while. I'll be in Lord Glorfindel's tent with Minaimír if there is any need for concern." I replied, glad that I'd thought up my lie before I'd left the tent.

   It wasn't long after I'd gotten back to Glorfindel's tent that Rhiannon came back. She noticed the packs and seemed to think of something and then her eyes widened and she squeaked in alarm. I knew immediately that Glorfindel was back in her mind. We'd agreed that even if we could have blocked out our bonded Elves that would have only given them cause to be suspicious, so it was necessary for Rhiannon to converse with him but keep her mind off our plan so that he wouldn't find out.

   Rhiannon turned away from the packs, focusing on the tent wall. It seemed an eternity to me before she turned back to face me, and for one dreaded moment I thought we were caught. 

    "Sorry," she said. "I don't think he picked up on anything about…Silver bells! Silver bells! It's Christmas time in the morning!"

   I stared at her, wondering if suddenly she'd gone insane or was having seconds thoughts about the plan and was trying to find some un-cowardly reason for not going. "What are you doing?" I asked.

   She pointed to her head. Ah, so it was Glorfindel…but what was the point of singing? Oh…it distracts him and he'll leave her mind…nice thinking Rhiannon, even if it does sound rather ridiculous to anybody standing nearby.

   "He's thinking about work again," she sighed in relief at last.

   "Good," I replied dryly. "Because that rendition of 'Silver Bells' was not the best I've ever heard."

   "Meh," she shrugged. "It's what came to mind, and it worked, from what I can tell. I'm certainly not picking _his every thought."_

   "Yeah, but he's had more…" I racked my brains for the right word. "…experience." That of course is completely illogical, given that an Elf only bonds once in life (unless they get 'divorced', but that's another issue), but maybe there's a manual or a book on it, because Ereinion certainly didn't have any of the troubles I seemed to have at first either. Or maybe it's just a male thing. How typically annoying and unfair.  
   Ignoring the issue, I opened my packed and began the process of selecting my 'outfit'. Trying to figure out what would entice an army of orcs to open the Black Gates is not the easiest of things. Especially if I'm trying to make sure Ereinion won't be too upset with me for making myself a target to the orcs and not appealing to him. If that makes sense…

   In the end, I selected a lacy black bra and matching ladies' knicker-shorts, over which I wore a translucent crimson robe that reached down to my knees, a blessing I was most grateful for, however see-through the material was. I was not going to enjoy revealing so much of myself, especially given the number of people who would be seeing me. I had a sneaking suspicion Ereinion was going to kill me for this. But it was for him that I was doing it, I reminded myself. For him and the Last Alliance.

  As I threw my cloak- full length, thank the stars!- over my shoulders and making sure nothing could be seen, a familiar voice called to Rhiannon from outside. As we walked into the outer 'room' of the tent, Elrond entered it from outside.

            "My Lady Anórmír, my Lady Minaimír," Elrond inclined his head politely, an unsuccessfully-concealed grin on his face. "My congratulations upon your bonding with the Lord Glorfindel and the High King Gil-galad." Normally I would have gone red, but I found myself almost giggling as Elrond went on. "The morale of the troops is heartened to hear that, even in such dark times, two flames of love burn brightly against the Evil that would swallow all."

   Elves are such romantics. I was glad to be counted among them, being a hopeless sap myself.

   "Thank you," I said, Rhiannon repeating the gesture just moments after.

   "Now to business, I'm afraid. The High King Gil-galad and King Elendil request your presence in the practice ring," Elrond said, almost apologetically. He held out two sets of Elvish armour out to us. "I shall await you out yonder while you prepare yourselves." He put down the armour and swords, bowed again and withdrew from the tent.

   Rhiannon and I exchanged glances. Not good. This wasn't going to plan at all.

   "Now what?" I whispered, hoping Elrond wouldn't hear.

   "We get creative," Rhiannon replied quietly, grabbing some of the armour and pushing it into my arms. We carried it into the inner section of the tent and put it down again. "Start singing!"

   "What?!" I exclaimed. Singing!? You have got to be joking!! I hate singing!! Correction- I hate people listening to me singing; and that was clearly Rhiannon's intention, for Elrond to hear me singing.

   "Just sing!"

   Swallowing my pride and giving Rhiannon one last look to be sure she knew I was going to strangle her later, I thought of my Elven love and how much the Alliance needed this break in the war; I opened my mouth and sang the first song that came to my head…

_When the summer sun is shining on Australia's happy land  
Around countless fires in strange attires you see many solemn bands  
Of glum Australians watching as the lunch goes up in flames  
By the smoke and the smell you can plainly tell that it's barbie time again._

_When the steaks are burning fiercely when the smoke gets in your eyes  
When the snags all taste like fried tooth paste and your mouth is full of flies  
It's a national institution it's Australian through and through  
So come on mate and grab your plate let's have a BBQ._

_The Scots eat lots of haggis, the French eats snails and frogs  
The Greeks go crackers over their moussaka and the Chinese love hot dogs  
The Welshmen like to have a leek, the Irish like their stew  
But you just can't beat that half cooked meat at an Aussie BBQ._

_When the steaks are burning fiercely when the smoke gets in your eyes  
When the snags all taste like fried tooth paste and your mouth is full of flies  
It's a national institution it's Australian through and through  
So come on mate and grab your plate let's have a BBQ._

   In the meantime, Rhiannon opened the bottom of the back wall of the tent  and rolled up some of the canvas, checking that nobody was watching us do it. It's lucky we were in Glorfindel's tent- Ereinion's tent is surrounded on all four corners with guards, then the extra two that guard the door. It's really quite unnerving sometimes.

   I suddenly realised that I'd stopped, and glanced back at the tent hoping Elrond hadn't busted in while I'd stopped watching the 'door'.

   "How's the next bit go?" Rhiannon asked loudly, gesturing at me frantically to keep continuing. I was starting to get sick of singing.

   "I dunno. I think I've forgotten." I replied truthfully. So Rhiannon started on the chorus again, until I picked up where I'd left off, recalling words as I went along. 

_There's flies got to the margarine, the bread has gone rock hard  
The kids are fighting and the mossies are biting, "Who forgot the Aerogard?"  
There's bull-ants in the Esky and the beer is running out  
And what you saw in Mum's coleslaw you just don't think about._

_When the steaks are burning fiercely when the smoke gets in your eyes  
When the snags all taste like fried tooth paste and your mouth is full of flies  
It's a national institution it's Australian through and through  
So come on mate and grab your plate let's have a BBQ._

_And when the barbie's over on your homeward way you wend  
With a queasy tummy on the family dunny many lonely hours you'll spend  
You might find yourself reflecting as many often do  
Come rain or shine that's the bloody last time that you'll have a BBQ. _

   And while I had to keep singing, my oh-so-clever sister slipped around the front and peered out carefully to check on what Elrond was doing.

   When she came back she was grinning. "Come on," she hissed excitedly. "He's settling a dispute. We've got our short bit of time!"

   I crawled out and dropped the wall again- hopefully it'd give us a few more moments of time when Elrond finally came in and found we were gone, if he couldn't see how we'd done it….though I suppose it'd be bloody obvious anyway.

   We ran away from the tent, careful to keep something in the way of Elrond and us in case he happened to look in our direction. Eventually we were far enough away and we grabbed each other's arm to stop, the thought having been simultaneous.

   "Are you sure you want to be doing this?" Rhiannon asked, not looking entirely certain about what we had begun to undertake. "It's not too late to turn back."

   But I was steadfast. I came up with the idea, it's the only chance we'll ever have before Ereinion and Glorfindel find out about it.

   "It's the only way," I said softly, conviction filling every fibre of my being.

   Rhiannon nodded. "Let's get this over with then. We have hot Elves to be returning to."

   Neither of said it, but we were thinking it; there was the palpable fear that we would not return at all.

   Our hair was loose and flew out in rich brown and shining red-gold streams behind us. We were so different, and yet so alike. Crazy was the first likeness that came to mind.

   Luck was on our side, as we found two white horses unattended, their owners not in sight, the horses saddled and ready to go. Neither one was Minras or Gostanc, but I wasn't all that fussed on what horse I took, so long as I had one. Since coming to this camp of the Last Alliance, Rhiannon and I have developed an unfortunately bad habit for lying or evading truth, and stealing other Elves' horses. I hope that I won't have to ever again, but then again, if I get out of this alive, I doubt Ereinion will be letting me do anything at all. Chances are, he'll send me off to Minas Ithil or Minas Anor just to make sure I'm not going to be in the way of any trouble.

   Rhiannon and I rode to the front line of the camp, where guards watched ceaselessly for any sign that the enemy was preparing to do battle. We had trotted up to this point, but slowed to a walk upon sighting the front, and now, as two guards moved to stand in our way.

   "Careful, tis the High King's lady and her sister," I hear one of them whisper to the other.

   "Lady Anórmír," the second one greeted with a quick bow. "What brings you so far from your Lord and so close to where battle has raged many a time?"

   "It was decided that we needed to study the lay of the battle grounds so we could better understood what tactics might be used to successfully push the Enemy back so that we could pass through the Black Gates," I said with a shy smile. What the guards didn't need to know what that it had been me to decide that reason just now. So it wasn't completely a lie…

   The guard hesitated. "I do not think it would be safe, my Lady. The Enemy has been known to attack without warning. It would be best if you stayed within the camp."

   "But we cannot see all of the grounds from here," I pointed out evenly. I was starting to get worried that they wouldn't let us past or that we'd be discovered for lying and stealing horses- yet again. "You need not worry about the Enemy; I have a guard with me, she is a warrior of great skill. She will protect me if any such situation should arise." I gestured to where Rhiannon sat as tall as she could atop her horse, giving one of her 'just-you-dare-to-contradict-me' glares. Very few people have ever won against her, when she stares like that, and just as few have come out even (Elrond, to name one).

   The guards exchanged a nervous glance, still extremely hesitant to let us pass. "My Lady, if we may inform the High King Gil-galad about this before you leave the camp?"

   Damn! I just knew it would come to this!

   "I tried to tell my Lord Gil-galad myself, but he was otherwise occupied with an important council." The guards' relaxed slightly. Encouraged, I continued. "We will not venture far, if that is your fear. Be sure to tell my Lord High King that we will return at sundown." I nudged my horse forward into a walk, passing them unchallenged, then I urged my horse into a trot, then a canter as Rhiannon caught up.

   I heard the guards call us, "My Lady, stop! _Daro! That is too far!" but we did not stop. I glanced over my shoulder and slow for a second, coming to a complete stop to turn and look back at them, Rhiannon following suit ahead of me some way. The guards seemed to be in a panic, one calling for horses while the other ran further into the camp- no doubt, to let Ereinion know where we were and what we had done._

   We didn't have much time left.

   I turned the mare I rode back around to face the black gates and nudged her into a trot again. Rhiannon waited for me to reach her before she started her horse off again. As we neared the gates, we slowed to a walk, and the horses, sensing our fearful tension, stomped the ground and fidgeted nervously. 

   Dagorlad was deathly quiet, as if all things held their breath in silent wait. No orcs could be seen atop the Gates, which was both curse and blessing. If they did not notice us, Gil-galad and Glorfindel would have time to pull us back before our plan succeeded, and if the orcs were there, it was likely they would shoot at us and with the exception of Rhiannon's sword, we were defenceless.

   I did not glance back at the camp of the Alliance. I knew that the elves would soon be racing down onto the battlefield.

      '_Anórmír__!' I heard Ereinion cry within my head. It seemed that the guard- or Elrond- had reached the main council tent. Time was running out quickly._

   "Have I mentioned that what we're doing is entirely stupid?" Rhiannon asked conversationally, seeming for all the world that we had just taken a ride through a park. 

   "Yes." I replied nonchalantly.

   "Okay. Just making sure." I glanced at Rhiannon who looked about as good as I was feeling deep within. Probably one of the few times I will ever see my sister when she is really afraid.

   "I still think you should have stayed behind to be the one to tell Gil-galad what I had done," I said, still eyeing those terrifying Gates. Never mind that she had helped me escape from Elrond and had been one of the determining factors that got us past the front guards, my original plan had kept her away from these Gates, though it would have let her fight (though Glorfindel probably would have ordered her to his tent).

   "And let you have all the fun? Nah," she answered, giving me a slightly nervous grin. "Although, I still say we should have come up with a slightly different plan."

   Too late for that now. "Probably." I replied. But then again, we'd already agreed, there basically wasn't any other way. Suddenly I was glad she had accompanied me. I grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

    '_Anórmír__!_ Come back! Get away from the Gates!' _The desperation Ereinion exuded almost caused me to start trembling. The reality of what we were doing was creeping up slowly and a small part of me was frightened, though I would never admit it. I was surprised at how calm I felt as well._

  Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder, checking for any sign of Glorfindel or anyone else. The look she gave me let me know that nobody had yet moved out.

  "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind!" Rhiannon began singing. We had agreed that Elf-maidens, half-naked and singing on their doorstep had to be a certain enticement for orcs. However, we hadn't thought of a song, and 'Auld Lang Syne' didn't seem quite the thing we should be singing at Mordor's Gates.

   My hands reached for the clasp of my cloak as I joined in singing. Just because I didn't think the song appropriate for the occasion (our deaths?) didn't mean I was going to make my sister sing it alone. I let the cloak slide from my shoulders and float gently onto the ground, revealing my kinky outfit to all. 

   I don't like the word 'kinky'. Hell, I didn't like the outfit either, but I had to wear it if our plan was to work.

   Beside me, Rhiannon had removed her cloak as well, and was now sitting atop her horse in nothing but the skimpy chain-mail that Captain Dumbass had made us wore that first day when we had been told we were having sword lessons.

    By now you will have gotten the general idea of the plan. Two sexy singing Elf-maidens on Mordor's doorstep, for the purpose of luring the orcs out, as which point we go riding back towards the Alliance and the armies take over from there. Of course there are a number of factors involved which could end up with us getting killed, but I'm basing it all what our former orc-captors had said 'Master said bring any pretties to him!' and while they had not gone out of their way not to harm us, the orcs hadn't killed us…so I hoped that would still the way of things.

   I shivered as a chill wind blew over us. It was normally quite hot and muggy in Mordor, but that wind was icy. As our song finished, the horses danced about nervously, staying in place only because we had not order them to go back. There was no reaction from within the Black Gates. No horns of war, no clanking of armour or swords. No challenging roars.

   I glanced over my shoulder. It was palpable that the armies of the Alliance were getting ready as fast as they could and it would not be long before our plan failed altogether.

   "We need to sing louder," I said urgently. "And something more beautiful."

   Rhiannon nodded, forcing her hand to relax rather than grab the hilt of the sword she wore. Vulnerability and beauty is appealing to orcs and we had to remain both until they emerged.

   It was my turn to pick a song, and I did so quickly, lifting my head to let my voice soar against the metal gates and the rocks.

_Kas_ tie tādi, kas dzjedāja__

_Bez__ saulītes vakarā?___

_Tie ir visi bāŗa bērni, Bargukungu klausītāji'._

   I may be wrong (if I am, don't blame me!), but I remember the teacher who taught us this song telling us that it was Latvian and it was about the children who worked in factories during the industrial age and how in the bitter cold of winter they walked down to the river to soften the rock-hard bread they were given as their meal so that they could eat it. I realise this little story bears no resemblance to what we were doing in the middle of a war, but it is a beautiful song, and I felt sure that the orcs could not sit there any longer just listening. Needless to say, the song is longer than what I have accounted here, but I could never write it in full, due to the many harmonies that intertwine with the sweet melody.

   Rhiannon, not knowing the words, added a beautiful harmony for the song nonetheless.

   The wind picked up our song and carried it far, our combined voices soaring over the land, rock and the Black Gates all around us. 

   We had hoped for nothing less. If you will give me a moment of pride, we sounded damned good.

   Horns blew loudly and the sound of the metal gates grinding against the earth as they opened hurt my ears, though I could not cover them for fear of losing control of the horse I rode. The pretty white mare reared, backing up as the orcs came into sight. My eyes widened and I was glad that the mare took the initiative to keep slowly walking backwards away from that terrifying sight. I had thought seeing one battle was bad. Here were thousands and thousands of orcs, just waiting to kill Rhiannon and I…or whatever other evil they had planned for a pair of Elf-maidens.

   '_What are you doing!?' Ereinion shouted in my mind. I kept singing, intent on finishing the song. '_Get out of there! Anórmír, come back! Come back to me!_' I felt his fear, knew that he wouldn't show it to the others around him for he is their king and he cannot lose face before them. His presence seemed closer than before and I knew instantly that the armies of the Last Alliance had finally been assembled and were approaching quickly._

   It was not until after Rhiannon had slashed at several of the foremost running orcs that we turned our horses around and the horses needed no urging to get them moving faster than they had ever galloped before. It was a flight of pure terror, a race to beat the orcs to the armies of the Alliance, amongst which my sister and I would be a lot safer. Arrows whizzed past in uncountable numbers, many of them directed at orcs- their aim being true, we could tell by the orcs' screams- but also a number of them aimed at Rhiannon and I. There was nothing we could do but duck low and continue riding back towards safety.

   Suddenly, I found myself falling off the horse that I rode and tumbled onto the ground. Pushing myself up, I looked back to the white mare and was distressed and horrified when I saw her thrashing about on the ground, her eyes wild with fear and a black poorly-fletched arrow protruding from her flank. I felt deeply for the beautiful mare, she'd obeyed my every order even when she knew that I myself was tempted to give up on the whole idea.

   "Fiona!" Rhiannon's voice cried over the din of the armies.

   I glanced over my shoulder and saw that she'd stopped and was tugging the reins to convince her horse to turn around. My attention was drawn back to my horse and the fast-oncoming orcs. Scrambling over as fast I could, I put a steadying hand on the mare's side, then pulled the arrow out of her side. There was no damned way I was letting this horse die.

   "Come on!" Rhiannon yelled at me, holding out a hand to pull me up. "We have to go!" She glanced at the armies who were nearing all so dangerously now.

   I pulled off my torn robe and pressed it on the mare's wound, as if I could stop the blood from flowing with that insignificant gesture. The fabric was thin and the blood seeped through too quickly. "I can't leave her!" Tears welled up in my eyes as the mare tried to rise again, her pain obvious in every movement.

   "You have to! There's no time!"

   "I can't leave her to the orcs!" I pleaded with Rhiannon. The look on my sister's face revealed that she was upset by the idea that my horse would die, but Rhiannon's priority has always been my safety and she would not compromise. I refused to let the mare die. I have never felt so…I don't know the word. It was as though I absolutely _had_ to do it, there was no way I could just leave such a beautiful mare to die after she'd been so brave as to take me to fulfil my whacked-out plan. A plan which may or may not work- that had yet to be seen.

  I threw the blood soaked rag away and put my hands on the mare's flank and closed my eyes in concentration, calling on a power I hadn't been consciously aware that I had. I felt the energy being pulled from within me and wash over the mare's wound, knitting together muscle, veins, flesh so as to stop the bleeding and then yet more of this energy of mine to repair skin and hair until there was no longer any trace there had ever been a wound at all.

  My head was dizzy, and I fell forward, grasping the mare's mane to steady myself. I must have put a leg over her back, because once my head cleared, the mare was standing once more and I was riding her.

  "Are you alright?" Rhiannon called from where she was positioned like a guard between me and the orcs.

   "Go!" I yelled, and my mare, sensing my urgency, leapt away gracefully heading where she knew I would be safest- our camp.

   Rhiannon rode alongside me as we continued trying to outrun the orcs who had reached the Alliance army but still tried desperately to follow us through. I glanced at Rhiannon for a split second before a black arrow pierced through her shoulder and her horse stumbled badly for some other reason I could not see, sending Rhiannon flying from the saddle.

   I wanted to turn around and go and help her, but somehow an orc had gotten in front of me and my horse, causing a rather large problem in that I could not pass without an injury but if I didn't get through there were a dozen more orcs damned close behind that prevented any chance of my being able to go back to help my sister. I felt like a coward and it sickened me to think I would have to leave my sister behind, but I had no weapon and my meagre fighting skills would not suffice against the armoured goblins.

   It seemed like an eternity, but it could only have been a few seconds in reality, from when I realised my dire situation to the moment that I suddenly realised that I could sense the mare's anger. She was angry, not at me, but at the orc before us. The orc had dared to stop her in her headlong gallop to the camp and she was peeved that he would interrupt us.

   No shit, really. That's what I sensed of the mare's emotions emanating from her. It was strange to say the least, but as the mare reared and struck the orc a lethal blow, I was suddenly very glad that I'd stayed and healed her. We had a sort of bond, not like the one between Elves, but it still meant that communication with words was largely unnecessary. The mare sensed my fear and regret and she was determined to get me to the safety of the camp and hopefully to someone who could help me find my sister.

   The mare bucked and reared at the orcs who tried to attack me, and I just sat on her back and let her do it. It's not like I could really do anything about it anyway. It wasn't too hard for me to stay on the mare's back though; our connection gave me a feel for riding that I had never understood before, every way she turned I knew just how to adjust my weight so it would not hinder her nor throw me from the saddle. If we hadn't been in the middle of a war, I would have laughed with pure glee at the connection between me and my horse.

  Eventually a small path between all the combatants opened and the mare neighed loudly, announcing to all that she was coming through and they better not get in her way!

   I was relieved when the mare brought me to Ereinion and many of his guards and close advisors, Elrond, Gildor and Glorfindel just to name the ones that I knew.

   Ereinion paused after cutting down the last orc who came up to him and glanced at me gravely. '_Anórmír_,' his voice in my mind greeted, but I could tell he was not happy with what I'd done.

   "Where is Minaimír?" Glorfindel demanded, interrupted by the arrival of an orc that was alone in this section where the fighting had basically been totally dealt with.

   "She is back some ways," I said, pointing the general direction I thought my sister was in. "She was shot in the shoulder, her horse stumbled, I had no weapon and the orcs closed in…"

   Glorfindel growled. "Why is it you always manage to come out of these foolish incidents unscathed and Minaimír always gets so badly injured?"

  Gee, thanks Glorfindel. As if I don't feel guilty enough. I swallowed and responded truthfully. "In my original plan, my sister would not have come with me to the Black Gates to entice the orcs to come out, she would have stayed to prevent anyone telling you what I'd done until the last moment at which time she would have informed you of our plan herself. It was Minaimír's decision that that part of my plan should be abandoned- she refused to let me go out there on my own."

   "This was your idea?" Elrond blinked in astonishment.

   I nodded, glancing guiltily at Ereinion who stood stoically, thinking. Ereinion commanded, "Gildor, go with Glorfindel and find Minaimír. Quickly! You may need to chase the orcs back further. We may yet salvage victory from this unexpected battle."

   Ereinion turned to me and I knew I was in for it. Hoping to press my advantage before he could admonish me for my stupidity, I dismounted gracefully from my mare (first and probably only time I will display any of the grace renowned of Elves), I strode over to my Elven love with my shoulders back and my head held high, not caring that I was only dressed in lacy black bra and knickers. As I knew he would, I could sense Ereinion's pride in me at the moment for my bravery (even if it was facing up to him) and how beautiful I looked walking over to him (hey, I'm allowed to gloat just a bit!). The stormy look on his features relaxed slightly. 

   Also as I knew he would, Ereinion's eyes drifted toward my rather revealing cleavage. I couldn't resist smirking at his obvious distraction. He strained to pull his eyes upwards from where they had been firmly fixed on my breasts, and when our gaze met, I raised an eyebrow. '_What do you think of the view, my love?_' I whispered seductively in his mind.

   Ereinion blushed slightly, and covered his mouth as though in thought, but I knew he was just trying to hide his grin.

   "I am only doing what the Valar sent me to do, my Lord," I said aloud for the benefit of those watching our exchange. "Whilst I did wrong to go ahead with my plan without informing you or King Elendil first, I would still have done it this way, a thousand times over if it had been necessary." I could see from the corner of my eye that the orcs were retreating at a fast pace and none of them even tried to stand their ground when the Elves and Men of the Alliance chased them into Mordor.

   Ereinion spent a moment composing himself, and when he removed his hand from his mouth, there was no trace of the grin that had been there just seconds before, but an expression that seemed almost hurt. "Lord Elrond…if you could find a cloak for the Lady Anórmír?"

   As Elrond inclined his head in acquiescence, I used my bond with Ereinion to heal his hurt. '_I'm sorry_,' I whispered remorsefully. '_It was all I could come up with…I knew you would never approve if I tried to explain it to you before I went ahead with it._'

   Ereinion pulled me close, placing his arms around me in such a way that I could not have escaped them if I had wanted to. '_You would look **much** better in white, my love_.' His deep voice chuckled within my mind as I gaped in shock.

   Elrond returned moments later with a grey Elven cloak, which he handed to Ereinion, who was forced to release me so he could drape it over my shoulders. Ereinion pulled it close, so that I would no longer be revealing my almost-naked body to the appreciate glances of the Elves who had been watching me. When he was done, he stood back and spoke with the King Elendil and various other generals who had just arrived.

   I felt a nudge at my shoulder and turned to smile at my mare, her emotion almost felt like she was trying to say 'he likes you' in a very teasing sort of way. I rubbed her neck, trying to stop myself from giggling. I found that I was more tired that I had anticipated, and I supported myself by leaning heavily against the mare, who nuzzled me as she would a foal to make sure I was still alright.

   Glorfindel rode up in Minras with a battered Rhiannon held tightly in front of him, looking rather the worse for wear with several arrows sticking out of her, a variety of gashes and slits where swords and axes had gotten past her defence, all the while covered in the black blood of the orcs even as her own flowed freely from her open wounds. It took me a few moments to settle my stomach as I recognised her, and to fight against the tears of shame and fear as I surveyed the wreck she had become when I had been unable to help her. "Rhiannon," I breathed, hoping to all things holy that she would be well.

   "Hey," she mumbled exhaustedly. "You still alive?"

   I couldn't help grinning at my brave and foolhardy twin. "You couldn't ever get rid of me."

   "Good…same here." Came her reply. Glorfindel helped her onto the ground and she hobbled over to me, an orc arrow still protruding from her leg. "You're not wounded," she observed dryly. "That's entirely unfair."

   Whilst that's probably true, I was glad I wasn't wounded all the same. I seem to have a talent for avoiding really bad wounds in a battle. I had cuts and scratches but all of them were minor and were now hidden by the cloak that I wore.

   "And entirely fortunate," Ereinion said, turning his attention to us. His face once again portrayed his anger. "Though I do not think others present see it that way." He glanced meaningfully at Glorfindel who gritted his teeth and tried not to look so defiant.

   "You have won us the Battle of Dagorlad, my Ladies, but your foolish actions will not come without repercussions." Elendil added gravely, coming to stand next to Ereinion. "As the Elf-maidens sent by the Valar to help us, you cannot just go running off weaponless to call out the Enemy. There are others ways of getting them to open the gates."

   "But then they would have been prepared and suspicious," I argued.

   "Then we would have been prepared, unlike what happened just now," Ereinion countered sternly, his intense gaze forcing me not to look away.

   I sighed. Males; they never understand anything and they're always convinced that they alone must be right. After all- how many attempts have _they made without success? Rhiannon and I made the whole of one attempt- and succeeded. So what's their freaking problem?_

   "What is done, is done," I said calmly, though I really felt like I could happily beat them over their dorky helmets with a Teflon stainless steel frying pan. "We have entry into Mordor and no more lives were lost to Elves and Men than might have been in other battles. Right now, my concern is for Minaimír- she is losing blood whilst we stand here and argue the merits of a past event. If you will berate me on this matter, then save it for later. My sister may be dying-" I wasn't entirely sure, but given the number of wounds on her, it was a safe bet. If she'd have been a balloon, no amount of rubber-repair kits would have been able to fix the punctures. "- and she needs the attention of the best healer available if she is to live." I glanced at Elrond, who nodded discreetly to my request. Nothing but the best for my sister, even if Elrond isn't exactly the most gentle of healers.

   Rhiannon herself was leaning on me and my horse in an attempt to stay upright. I suspected that much of our conversation had passed by her unnoticed and uncared for. Her every concentration was on standing. She was trembling now and I knew that it would only seconds until-

   Ah! There she went. I let go of my horse to catch my now-unconscious sister as she collapsed.

   "Elrond, take her to Glorfindel's tent and tend to her immediately," Ereinion ordered, though Elrond needed no urging.

   Elrond picked up Minaimír, being careful not to knock the arrows still stuck in her and quickly headed for Glorfindel's tent, issuing orders to have his healing kit brought to him.

   Glorfindel tried to follow, but Ereinion put a hand on his shoulder and held him back. "We have further matters to discuss right now. You can go to her promptly once we are finished."

   Glorfindel nodded reluctantly.

   "Berialagor!" Ereinion summoned.

   A female Elf dressed in armour stood forth. There were other female Elves here! It was a notion I was grateful to discover. This Elf looked to be many years older than Rhiannon and I- let's face it, I doubt there were any Elves below the age of a hundred in the Alliance- and she had dark hair that was no longer than that of any other Elf's (my point being here that Rhiannon and I had the longest hair, which made us much more obviously feminine than we had realised). She was quite dirty, naturally from being in the fight, but she was tall and her face was unreadable as she looked ahead, standing straight at attention as her King had bid her into his presence.

   "Berialagor, I know it was your wish to join my personal guard such as your uncle is a part of…but would you be disappointed if I asked you instead to be the personal guard of my Lady instead?" Ereinion enquired.

   Berialagor seemed shocked, and for a second I felt down-hearted that our only hope for female companionship other than myself and Rhiannon would be denied. But Berialagor glanced at me and broke into a broad smile that she could not contain. "You honour me far more than I could ever hope for," she replied, resuming her forward gaze at the air before her.

   It was explained to me later, that as Ereinion's bonded mate and his future-queen, I was supposed to require the best protection that Ereinion could offer. That he had chosen Berialagor to be my personal guard- the one who would always be with me if I went anywhere beyond an Elven city- was supposed to be a high honour. I, however, thought it a cruel punishment to force this warrior Elf-maiden into being my caretaker.

   "Your duty may require you do take on tasks that are not ordinarily that of a guard," Ereinion warned.

   "Your Majesty, I have dreamed of becoming a royal guard since I was a child, as I am sure you well recall," Berialagor said breathlessly. "That you would ask me to be the personal guard of your Lady…I am willing to take on any additional tasks that may be necessary for me to perform for your peace of mind and your Lady's comfort and safety."

   Ereinion smiled contentedly. He turned to me, his look becoming sterner but still not unkind. "Berialagor is your guard, Lady Anórmír. You are not to, under any circumstances, try to escape Berialagor's watchful eye or do anything without first informing her."

   "Or run off to do something rash without bringing her along?" I suggested teasingly.

   Several of the Elves and Men around me, choked with laughter, trying to conceal their mirth from their lords who still stared at me. Elendil seemed unrelenting on this condition that I must be guarded constantly, though Ereinion's expression was softer, trying to make me understand that in the event that I did manage to get past him to do something else that was completely crazy, at least Berialagor would be there to protect me.

   I sighed. If Rhiannon wanted to go along with some stupid idea, that was her business, like it was mine to choose to go along…but Berialagor had orders from Ereinion and it seemed unfair to drag her into any such messes when she didn't really have a choice.

   "I understand, my Lord." I replied. I looked to Berialagor who seemed to wait anxiously for me to say something. I gave her a small cheeky smile. "I'm not entirely sure I understand why you think being my babysitter is such an honour, but I'm glad for other female company." I held out a hand for her to shake. When she clasped my hand still beaming in delight, I couldn't help breaking into a grin.

   "Berialagor, I will speak to you later about selecting other guards for Lady Anórmír," Ereinion said. "For now, I would like you to escort her back to my tent-"

   "_Your tent, my Lord Gil-galad?" a silver-haired Elf remarked, strolling up. I assumed correctly that this was Círdan the Shipwright._

   "Upon her return, I felt it best to keep Lady Anórmír close- to avoid any further incidents." Ereinion defend himself, his cheeks tinged slightly with pink.

   "Mayhap that was a wise decision before, but you are not yet married to her and despite your feelings that it would be best- I think perhaps that it is not." Círdan replied. "My Lord, you do not set a very good example for your people when you let your Lady-maiden reside in your tent and yet no oaths or vows of marriage have passed between you. You are not even engaged, for shame!" Ereinion was going red right to the tips of his ears. I caught Elendil's eye and we both struggled to stop prevent ourselves from laughing out loud. Círdan continued. "You know of the rumours that have been whispered amongst your own soldiers and the news of your bonding with the Lady Anórmír could not be kept secret either."

   "I thought bonding was the equivalent of marriage among Elves," Anórien, Elendil's younger son, speculated aloud.

   "No. A bond can be created among Elves without it being solidified, so to speak," Berialagor explained as Círdan to reprimand the High King of the Elves. "Only the physical consummation of a marriage or union makes the bond unbreakable." She glanced at me slyly.

   I couldn't help blushing either. "We've done no such thing," I replied shortly. "And I had no idea that my bond with Ereinion could break. But still, I would not have let him…" I struggled for a polite way to phrase it. "…touch me in that way…even if I _had_ known."

   The sound of Círdan's voice caught our attention back to the main argument. "Oh, for Elbereth's sake, Gil-galad! Do us all a favour and just marry her!"

   There was a stunned silence around the verbal combatants as Ereinion tried to think of something to say.

   "I do not know about my Lord Gil-galad, Lord Círdan, but I am inclined to marry Lady Minaimír as soon as she is well, and hopefully that will prevent anymore foolishness on her part." Glorfindel announced. "Lord Círdan, I ask that you stand in for my father as it were, since my own is unable to attend-" Yeah, he's probably in Aman…and Glorfy's not willing to wait another until he gets to… "-and if you will now all excuse me, I wish to see how Elrond goes with healing my own Lady." He strode off, obviously very pleased with himself for getting out of having to stick around.

   Ereinion was still blushing deeply as he glanced over at me. I raised an eyebrow as if to say 'well?'. He palpably regained his regal composure and declared, "Lady Anórmír and I shall wed, at the latest, 7 days hence, here before the Gates of Mordor where she and her sister led us to victory." A great deafening cheer sounded all around.

   SEVEN DAYS?? I HAVE SEVEN DAYS TO LEARN EVERYTHING I CAN ABOUT ELVISH WEDDINGS???? And of course, the ceremony would be in Elvish, which I don't know so I'd have to try and learn what I had to say along with- oh, grrrrrrr, Ereinion! That's not enough time!

   "Tis prudent that he does wed you elsewhere than before Barad-dûr where Sauron resides, for if Sauron should guess at how much Ereinion loves you, you will be in great peril." Berialagor whispered in my ear. Apparently my thoughts had been written over my face. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Come, my Lady. We need to see about getting you into some proper clothes and those cuts and scratches tended to. Come."

   '_Have fun organising our wedding, my love.' I bethought Ereinion warningly. '__You had better hope that I can learn enough to save embarrassing us both in that time.'_

   I felt, more than saw, Ereinion wince. His mind-voice sighed within my head. '_I would we have been given more time and that we could have wed in some fair and beautiful Elven city than in this desolate place, meleth nín, but I do not what tomorrow may bring and I do not think I could wait much longer until you are wholly mine at last_.' As he spoke, his voice had become more and more low, tinged with desire.

   Unaware of my inner conversation with my soon-to-be-husband, Berialagor led me onwards to wherever it was that Círdan had deemed I must say whilst I waited for my marriage to Ereinion Gil-galad.


	23. Battle's Suck

A/N:  This isn't as long as my last chapter, so don't worry; story momentum won't be too horribly interrupted…

And I met Craig Parker!  Woo!  

Enjoy!

~~~~~

            I cannot tell you how hard it was for me not to send images to Glorfy when Fiona and I talked about the stupidest thing Fiona's ever come up with.  To that end, I suggested as strongly as I could that Fiona and I get this over with before my wandering mind could give the plan away before I could stop it.  Fiona agreed wholeheartedly with this.  Didn't surprise me in the slightest.

            The Dagorlad was quiet.  Not an Orc stirred on the barren bit of ground between the camps and the Morannon, the Dark Gates of Mordor.  That, most unfortunately, was about to change.  Or so we hoped.

            As part of the Plan, I had to slip back to the tent that Fe and had shared as sisters and retrieve something that no one had thought about for at least a week or two.  And hope that it was still there, of course.  If it'd been moved, I was going to have to get creative about my part in The Plan, and I wasn't looking forward to that.

            Glorfy was distracted.  Gilly had him tied up in something to do with the armies and so forth, and as such, he didn't have a spare thought to turn to me.  This insulted me somewhat, given our recent bonding, but in many ways, I was grateful – for once – for the workings of the Alliance keeping my Elf away.  

            Walking as nonchalantly as I could through the camp to our old tent, I hummed to myself a catchy little tune that I hoped would get stuck in my head and end up as background noise in Glorfy's, so he would just think that I was off wondering about the camp in boredom.  

            "I think I'll go for a walk outside now, the summer sun's calling my name!"  I giggled to myself.  Often I'd sing this song for the sole purpose of pissing Fe off.  It served my purpose now because it was rather repetitive, so I kept it up.  And, because I know my own mind (a little, anyway), I knew that some part of it would be humming that song for the rest of the damn day, and probably the rest of the friggin' week, if not the rest of the seven years we were going to be stuck in the godforsaken hell hole called Mordor.

            As far as I know, it worked at the time.  I certainly didn't notice Glorfy's attention on me for more than a few passing seconds at a time before the need to work out a plan took his attention away from me again.

            Passing Elves regarded me with either knowing looks or bland distaste.  One or two of them even smiled, but not the majority of them.  Oh well – if they aren't going to lighten up, then I'm certainly going to.  I'm sure that my perspective on life is wholly unique to humans who have done some Thinking.  In the current camp, I'm pretty sure my perspective on life was wholly unique to Fiona and myself (and sometimes, I think, only to me), namely – to squeeze one more use out of an over-worn cliché – 'If life gives you lemons, make lemonade'.

            Now, that's not to say 'be cheerful all the time'.  That's just to say, as Terry Pratchett once put it, "It's a funny old world.  You have to laugh."

            Because if you don't, you'll end up as the Elves did towards the end, so wrapped up in sorrow that they couldn't be happy if someone paid them, dwelling on the past, fading because the grief got too great to handle.  About the only thing I can think of to say about that is 'Get over it,' and, somehow, I don't think the others of my new species would be particularly receptive to that idea.    

            Stop looking at me like that.  I adore the Elves.  I longed for so long to be one of them, or to just _see_ one, even if I could never be one.  I thought as they thought – over the long term – because I wanted to think like them.  And I went nuts.  'Spastic', I think, is the term I used at the time.  I grew so worried about what might happen, and so upset that I just didn't have the _time_, that I nearly got religious.  

            But I got over it.  I eventually came to grips with the idea that _now_ is the time you have to worry about, because _now _is happening now, rather than then, and there are no ifs attached to it.  It's just _now_.

            And right now, I had to slip into my old tent unnoticed, retrieve something necessary, and make it back to Fiona before either of our Elves – or Elrond, if he was out and about – realized we were up to something.  

            After I'd concealed my prize about my person, I high-tailed it back to the other end of the camp while endeavouring to appear as though I wasn't hurrying at all.  This, of course, is harder than it looks because I know for a fact that my body language broadcasts, "RHIANNON'S GOT A SECRET!" at the top of its proverbial lungs whenever I do, in fact, have one.  I don't think anyone got suspicious, and just to make sure I started humming again after I got my heart rate to slow down.

            I reached my and Glorfy's tent largely without incident (there _was_ this somewhat embarrassing moment when I was skipping down the rows of tents and some Westron (English?) speaking Elf happened to remark in a loud voice that I'd gotten a lot more cheerful since my bonding…but I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen).  

Fiona, while I'd ventured out to our old tent, had gone over to Gilly's and retrieved her backpack; a necessary ingredient for our Plan.  She plunked it down next to mine, and I noticed, for the first time, that they were the most nondescript bags imaginable.  Grey was the main colour – and there was a lot of it.  The only thing that told them apart was a slightly different ordering of pouches, and the faint smell of rotten pineapple from Fiona's.

            _Are you well, melyanna?_  The question startled me so badly I squeaked.  Fiona looked sharply at me, and I turned away from the packs to keep from thinking of the Plan.  The only downside to my new bond with Glorfindel is that I no longer have my mind to myself.  Oh, he'll never go searching about in my mind or anything, and I certainly won't in his, but…my mind has been my own for eighteen years – it's a bit worrisome to no longer have it completely to myself.  

            _Ummm…why wouldn't I be well?_

            _I sensed a change in mind from you, not two minutes ago,_ he answered. _You seemed…embarrassed._

            _Oh…I went for a walk and some Elf made some remark about how I seem…happier, now that I've been bonded._

            Glorfy was chuckling.  I don't think he noticed the choice bits of information that I hadn't included.  At least, I was hoping – praying – that he hadn't noticed.  But my face went red again.

            _Others of the Elf kind will be able to spot the bond,_ my Elf explained.  _Especially those who have been bonded themselves.  _

            _Fark!_

            _That is bad, melyanna?_  Oops…now I've gone and worried him.

            _No, no_, I assured him.  _It's just…this is all so new to me…_

            I could feel him smiling.  _Do not worry,_ he said.  _Most do not consider such a bond a source of embarrassment and would not think that others would_.

            _The bond isn't the source of embarrassment,_ I replied, somewhat hotly.  _It's that others seem to be…_

_            I know, melyanna_, he said over me.  _I know_.  And then his presence receded, and I turned back to Fiona, who was watching me concernedly.  

            "Sorry," I said.  I told her about that incident on the way back from our tent.  Looks like I couldn't just pretend that hadn't happened at all.  "I don't think he picked up anything about…Silver bells!  Silver bells!  It's Christmas time in the morning!"

            "What are you doing?" She frowned at me.  I pointed at my head as I kept singing, hoping that she knew that meant that Glorfy was thinking in my direction again.  But then he chuckled and went back to his work and I sighed.

            "He's thinking about work again," I said.  

            "Good," Fiona said dryly.  "Because that rendition of _Silver Bells_ was not the best I've ever heard."  

            "Meh," I replied.  "It's what came to mind, and it worked, from what I can tell.  I'm certainly not picking up _his_ every thought."

            "Yeah, but he's had more…experience."

            I stared at her, and then put out of my mind the jealousy that would have arisen had I allowed that thought to continue.

            I don't know how long it took for Fiona to get ready, once I she'd picked out what she'd needed and prepared herself.  But shortly after she'd finished throwing her cloak over her shoulders, someone outside hailed us (me, really, since no one knew that Fiona was here…I hoped) and I went to investigate.  And found Elrond, waiting to be admitted.  For once, he hadn't just waltzed right in.

            "My lady Anórmír.  My Lady Minaimîr," he greeted us after he'd stepped into the tent.  "Congratulations upon your bonding.  The morale of the troops is heartened to hear that, even in such dark times, two flames of love burn brightly against the Evil that would swallow them."

            Didn't anyone ever do this to Fiona? She bonded Gilly first, after all.  Why hasn't anyone announced to the whole bloody camp that she and Gilly have bonded?  Or maybe everyone _had_ noticed and just hadn't said anything, on account of the fact that Gilly's King.  Failing that, no one might have noticed Fe and Gilly's bonding because _that_'s a property of the all out bonding that I…um…I mean, maybe she hasn't _completely_ accepted…er…

            I stole a look at Fiona.  She looked rather amused, really.  I turned back to Elrond and said that only thing that I could say.

            "Thank you."  I just hoped that my face hadn't gone the colour of red that I was suspecting.

            "The High King, and King Elendil request your presence in the practice ring," Elrond continued after a short bow.  I noticed for the first time the armour he had piled in his arms.  It looked suspiciously like the armour that we'd been wearing the day of our very first battle.  "I shall await you out yonder while you prepare yourselves."  He put the armour (and swords) down, bowed again, and withdrew from the tent.  Fiona and I looked at each other.

            This time, I didn't say 'fark'.  I said something much stronger.

            "Now what?" Fiona hissed.

            "We get creative," I hissed back, dragging her behind the partition and into the 'inner sanctum'.  My eyes lit on the back of the tent, and I got creative.  "Start singing!"

            "What?"  

            "Just sing!"

            So she sang.  She gave me an odd look – one that promised revenge – but she sang.  I'm very proud of her – Fiona doesn't usually sing without coercion if she knows anyone's listening.  "Shit scared" to is how she put it once.  For her to belt out an amusing song about all the wonderful things that happen at an Australian barbeque was quite a feat.  To this day, I don't know what Elrond thought of it.  I joined in where I knew, of course, in what I hoped was an enthusiastic voice devoid of worry, and in the mean time, detached the bottom of the back wall of the tent from the ground.  

            When I had enough of the canvass up to crawl under, Fiona's song faltered.  She'd been watching wearily around the partition for any sign of Elrond poking his head through, and now she turned to note the hole I'd made in the back.  

            "How's the next bit go?" I asked loudly, in an effort to keep up our rouse.  I made frantic hand gestures at her.  I've never been much of an actress, and I didn't want Elrond barging in here wondering what the hell was going on.

            "I dunno," she replied.  So I launched into the chorus, waited until she picked it up again, and then made gestures that _hopefully_ conveyed my intent to slip around the tent to see if Elrond was busy or not.  She nodded, but only after I'd repeated myself several times, sang the chorus with her once more, and waited until she started in on the next verse.  It was imperative to our plan that Fiona get out to the Dagorlad to the Gates without anyone noticing.  Noticing too quickly, anyway.

            When I slipped around to the front of the tent, and peered around the edge, Elrond was seeing to a dispute between a Man and an Elf.  I didn't understand a word of what was being said, since it was in rapidly spoken Elvish, but the Elf was giving the Man some terribly evil looks – never thought I'd see so much hatred directed at a human before – and the Man wasn't much better.  Elrond started yelling at the pair of them, and they both stared at the ground sullenly.  I resisted the urge to march right up to them and smack them hard, and tell them both to get over it.  Elrond was doing a good enough job of that already.

            I grinned.  Elrond was quite absorbed – there was no chance, if we got out now, that he'd notice we were gone, at least for some time.  I ran back around to the back of the tent.  

            "Come on!" I hissed, when I stuck my head through the hole I'd made.  I pulled back as Fiona squeezed through.  "He's settling a dispute.  We've got time!"

            We ran full speed in the opposite direction of the tent.  My heart pounded wildly – I seriously thought it was going to explode.  Or that Elrond was going to notice us tearing across the camp.  When we were sufficiently far enough away, I grabbed Fiona's arm at the same time as she grabbed mine.  We stopped dead.

            "Are you sure you want to be doing this?" I asked.  I had to be certain.  "It's not too late to turn back."  

            "It's the only way," Fiona said, not for the first time that day.  I nodded.

            "Let's get this over with, then," I said.  "We have hot Elves to be returning to."

            I didn't say it.  So help me, I didn't say that I feared that we would not be returning at all.

And twenty minutes later, that fear became certainty.

I'd pulled my hair out of the braid that Glorfy had done earlier that night and tied the leather thong that had held it around my wrist for luck before we'd even swiped the horses, and now the full length of my hair – nearly to my back side – blew out behind me.

We didn't take Minras or Gostanc this time around.  They were loose in the pen, and I didn't want to bother them.  Or their grooms, since we couldn't let them known we were going anywhere.  But, there were these two nearly white beauties (not as beautiful as Minras, but gorgeous nonetheless) picketed right at the front and on the end furthest from the grooms and closet to us, so we took those instead.  

There was a minor incident with the guards at the front.  They seemed to think that we shouldn't go anywhere.  We protested this, of course, and they seemed to think that they should get Gil-galad's approval.  I was all for kicking them out of the way, or galloping at them with the horses, but Fiona saved the day by managing to handle it masterfully, and much better than I would have. 

"Worry not – I have a guard with me, a Warrior of great skill."  This after a short argument in which they nearly went and got Gilly.  I noticed that the Elves very carefully did not say anything about my height, or that I had a rather large amount of bare leg sticking out of my cloak.  "I will be protected."  

I stared in what I hoped was a regal way – down my nose

After Fiona regally dispatched the guards with "we will not venture far, if that is your fear.  Be sure to tell my Lord High King that we will return at sundown," it was smooth galloping from there.

            Well, almost.  There were some shouts of "Stop, my Ladies!  You go too far!" and other such things, but these were largely lost to the wind of our passage.  At least, that's what we told ourselves as we ignored them.

            I must interject something here that will detract from the momentum of the story, but I don't care.  It must be said, and now is as good a time as any other to say it:

            I hate liars.  I hate lying, theft, cheating…I _hate _it.  I _loathe _it, and I am completely disgusted with anyone – including myself – who lies, cheats or steals. 

            So I bend the truth, look for every advantage, and borrow.  Everything I've ever come up with to get Fiona and me out of a situation has had at least a smidgen of truth at its centre.  It's not just an aversion to lying that stops me – I just can't do it.  It's physically impossible for me to lie, which I think is completely the fault of my mother.  I can bend the truth, use ambiguous words so that other people think I'm saying something else, but I will never lie.

            Some of you may see this as a distinction without a difference, but…tiddly boogles to that, my friends, because this is how my mind works.  We didn't lie to the guards – we were going out to inspect the ground for a plan.  That inspection was quick, and was approved immediately by those whose plan it was, but that doesn't matter.  We didn't steal the horses – we borrowed them, and we fully intended to put them back afterwards.    

            And now we can get on with the story.

We reigned up in front of the Black Gates and tried to catch our breath.  The horses we'd swiped (borrowed) danced back and forth underneath us, this close the Gates, and I didn't really blame them.  Even with the total absence of Orcs next to us, those Gates seemed vile.  And to think Men, of all people, had built them!

There was no sign of anything.  Just dead, black, empty land and those farkin' huge Gates.  By now, I thought, someone would be running with all speed to the command pavilion, or to the practice fields, where we'd been expected.  Maybe it was Elrond.  Maybe it was the guard who'd tried to stop us at the front.  Either way, we didn't have much time before the Elves were mobilized.  

The horses picked up on our – honestly – thinly veiled fear.  They pranced and reared up, and the only reason they hadn't spun in the direction of the camp and galloped away was because they seemed to be only slightly calmer with Elves upon their backs.  Even if those Elves were more than a little human in their behaviour.

"Have I mentioned that what we're doing is entirely stupid?" I asked, glancing over at Fiona.  

"Yes."

"Okay.  Just making sure."  A terrible sinking feeling filled my stomach.  I wanted to see Glorfindel again.  It only accented the feeling that we weren't going to get out of this alive, or unspoiled.  Together, we turned back to the Gates.      

            "I still think you should have stayed behind," Fiona said as we looked up at the Gates.

            "And let you have all the fun?  Nah," I said.  "Although, I still say we should have come up with a slightly different plan."

            "Probably."  No insistence of 'there's no other way'.  I reached between our horses and grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze.

            _Minaimîr!_ Glorfy's voice sounded far away.  I looked over my shoulder, but there was no sign of Minras galloping towards us.  We still had time.  _Come back!  Please, melyanna, come back!_

            _I can't,_ I replied.  I don't even know if he heard me.  It was the mental equivalent of a whisper.      

            "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind! "  I sang.  It was the first song that popped into my head, and it seemed to fit the end of one thing and the beginning of another.  Whatever that other would be.  I forced tears back behind my eyes.  _Auld Lang Syne_ is a simple tune, and an old one, and when it's sung well…and accompanied by bagpipes, but we didn't have any of those…it can be one of the most…bittersweet songs I know.

Fe looked sideways at me and shrugged.  I was reaching for the clasp of my cloak.  I chucked my cloak behind me and was going for my shirt when Fe joined in, singing as loud as she could.

            "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne!"  Her cloak joined mine.

            This was part of the Plan, of course.  Not the song, but the singing.  Woo the Orcs with something beautiful, not just physically, but to the ears too.  They wouldn't be able to stand it.  Orcs hate beauty greatly, and without question.  

            "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne!  We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne!"

            My chain mail undies were cold, in the wind that whipped down from the mountains of shadow.  Fiona shivered, but didn't wrap her arms around herself, though I could tell that she wanted to. You would have too, if you stood before the Black Gates, an Elf Maiden, and dressed in two strips of gauzy fabric, some feathery stuff, and sequins.  She'd chosen the most revealing of her 'odd undergarments'.  Anything that would draw the Orcs out and open the Gates so that Gilly could get his armies in to Mordor.  

            Our song died away on the rocks.  Nothing moved.  No horns blew.  Glorfy was getting frantic in the back of my head, but I didn't let myself take notice of him.  

            "We need to sing louder," Fiona said.  "And something more beautiful."  I nodded and resisted the urge to rest my hand on the sword that I'd left belted at my hip. We had to appear as vulnerable as we could.

            Fiona began, singing the sweet words – in Latvian, of all languages – as loud as she could.  

"Kas tie tädi, kas dzjedäja 

_"Bez saulïtes vakarä?  _

_"Tie ir visi bära bërni, Bargukungu klausïtäji"._  

She sang the verse through once before I joined in, adding harmony where I could.  Our song echoed over the rocks, reverberated in the metal doors of the Gates…I don't want to blow my own horn, as it were, but we sounded pretty damn good.  So good, in fact, that our Plan was working.

            The sound of tortured metal filled the air.  The ground shook, rumbling as the massive doors swung wide.  Orcs lined up behind them, and poured squealing and screaming from the open aperture.  A black tide, really, come to kill us, or, at least, rape us where we stood.  I didn't draw my sword.  Glorfy grew more insistent in my mind – and closer too. I didn't have to look behind us to know that he and a whole bloody lot of Elves and Men – the entire camp, really – were coming at us.  

It was all I could do to keep singing and not draw my sword.

I don't think you'll find an account of this in any history that made it into _The Silmarillion_.  Highly doubt it, really, because I've never heard any mention of it – not to mention, Elrond recording that it was the incredibly stupid plan of two hardly dressed and very young Elf maidens that got them through the Gates and into Mordor just seems…so not him.

I don't mind, really.  At one point in my existence I would have insisted on the "Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth", but I've largely gotten over that part in my existence.  History, in itself, is not full of stories of scantily clad females using their ingenuity to get entire armies of Elves into hostile territory.  No one would believe it if the story _was_ included, even if Fiona and I got out of it alive and had had a camcorder along to record the whole event, and an apparatus on which to watch the video afterwards.  Because History doesn't record things that don't sound right.  Because it's wrong.  Or something.

Anyway, I waited until the last possible instant before I drew my sword, killed the Orc forerunners that made it to us first, and we swung the horses around and bolted with all haste towards the stampeding armies of the Alliance.  There was no fierce battle's cry from us, this time, no screamed "BOOOOOOOOOOBINATOR!!!!" as we rushed the Orcs.  The Orcs were doing the rushing, and we were doing the fleeing, and Glorfy and Gilly were going to be doing the killing the instant we got back to them.  

Arrows from both sides whipped past our heads.  Orcs and Elves and Men and horses alike dropped, screamed and died.  The sounds had an odd Doppler effect as we galloped by.  And then Fe wasn't beside me any more.  

I pulled my horse up sharply and looked around.  And spotted her on the ground, next to her stumbling mare, the white flank of which was now sporting a black fletched arrow.  

"Fiona!"  I yanked on the reigns, trying to get the horse I rode – another mare – to understand that we had to get to Fiona before the Orcs did.  The line of evil bunyips wasn't that far away.  

"Rhiannon!"  Her red-gold hair was askew, her flimsy garments torn.  Her horse tried valiantly to rise, but it was having trouble.  

I used every swear word I knew.  I reached her before the Orcs did, thankfully, but she was trying to save the horse.

"Come on!" I shouted, pulling my mare roughly to a stop.  I tried not to look at the downed animal.  The two charging armies were two walls of thunder, approaching much too quickly for my tastes.  "We have to go!"

She glanced up briefly, and then looked back to the horse, and tried wadding a bit of her already flimsy garments around the arrow to help the animal.  "The horse," she said.  "I can't leave her!"

"You have to!"  It broke my heart, seeing that animal trying to rise, eyes wild with pain. I forced tears back again.  "There's no time!"

It is Fiona's curse that another's pain effects her so deeply, animal or human or Elf.  Well, not really a curse, in that sense.  Empathy, in itself, is not a curse.  Except when a flood of gibbering Orcs is charging your way, and another army is coming the other way, and there's only two of you caught in the middle.

"I can't leave her to those Orcs!" she cried, and I saw tears in her eyes.   I'd have been hopping from one foot to the other if I hadn't been on horseback.  She put her hands on the animal's flank, and closed her eyes.  

"Bloody hell!"  I knew what she was doing.  I wished that I didn't, but I knew what she was doing.  She was healing the horse.  "Bloody, bloody hell!"  I pushed my horse around them, positioning myself between them and the Orcs, which were still getting closer.  I only tore my gaze from them when Fiona's mare whinnied.  When I turned, it had risen, and Fiona was clinging loosely to her back.

"Shit!  Are you alright?"

She blinked owlishly and swayed.  The Orcs were less than ten meters away.  Arrows still flew overhead from both sides.  

"Go!" she cried, and her horse leaped away.  I had to skewer one or two of the faster Orcs before I could catch up, but catch up I did.

The armies of the Alliance parted as we approached, side by side as we had left.  I could feel hope being rekindled as we continued our headlong gallop towards the relative safety of the camp.  

And then something really nasty happened.  Pain did a jig in iron shoes along my right arm.  Warm wetness slid down my side.  I sat up from the ground – hardly realizing that I'd fallen – wincing and gasping for air, and there was no sign of my horse, or of Fiona.  My sword lay a couple of inches away, and I reached for it.

Bad mistake.  When I could breathe again, I noted for the first time the cruel, barbed arrow point sticking out of my shoulder, and swore.  And then grabbed my sword with my left hand.

God damn this armour!  God damn the dumbass who made it!  I should have put on the real stuff, not this friggin', useless skimpy bits that I'd found so fun all those days ago!  But I had had to help Fiona lure the Orcs out, and they wouldn't have been so easy to lure if I'd been wearing full battle armour.  And speaking of Orcs…

When I stood, there was one only two feet away, the head of the flood.  I barely got the sword raised in time, but the Orc skewered itself on the blade and had the good grace to fall backwards.  I ignored the pain in my arm and grabbed the hilt with my right hand.  The sword, which had once seemed so wonderfully light and beautiful, felt like an iron bar.  My right arm felt like a burning iron bar. I'd cut my legs somehow, likely in my fall from the mare's back, and the cuts stung.  My head hurt, and my lungs hurt, and my feet hurt, and my side hurt and…I was not happy.  Anger, I've found, is a hell of a lot better than fear, and it generally helps more than wetting oneself when the tide of battle overwhelms you.  I wondered briefly where Fiona was, sent an instantaneous message of love to Glorfindel, and then went to work.

"Try to rape me, will you?" I shouted, though my voice was croaking.  "Curse you for living, you bloody bunyips!  Eru wipe you from the face of existence!  Where is my bloody twin?" 

With each question, I swung the sword, killed an Orc, and then went looking (not that I had to go far) for another.  With each question, I let myself get angrier and angrier, and turned my despair into a hate that rivalled what that Man was getting when Elrond had had to settle that dispute.  With each question, I grew more and more tried from an inner battle with helplessness and terror and the basic, instinctual need to stay alive.  

Literary tradition would have me insert metaphors here about my will being 'forged in battle' with the 'hammer of war'.  I suppose I could add in that my 'bellows were pumping rhythmically' and were 'fuelling the fire of my anger', 'heating the steel of my heart', 'casting the shape of my future thoughts', 'grinding my will to survive to a sharp edge', 'honing my senses'…  I don't think there's one that mentions the 'burning charcoal of the Orc's blood' or whatever, because, frankly, that would be stupid.  Orc blood is black, yes, and it does burn, but charcoal tends to go that pretty white-yellow colour when it's hot enough to use in a forge.  Anyway, the puns and clichés could go on forever, so I won't use them.  I'll just say that I was terribly pissed off and leave it at that, and let you try to come up with all the gory, disgusting details of what really goes on in a battle when you're cut off and alone.  I don't want to talk about it any more.

So I won't.  

Glorfy got me out, of course.  There's a certain wonderful predictability to that.  I saw him coming this time – again on Minras – and felt him coming closer though our mind-link.  But I didn't really jump for joy when I saw him cut his way though Orcs and smelly men (not on our side) to get to where I was hovering around the brink of complete emotionless-ness.  I was too busy killing things and trying to stay alive to take any real notice of what was happening elsewhere.

And then, there weren't any more Orcs.  Gildor had appeared with Glorfindel and began driving those around us back into the melee.  Another Elf – whom I vaguely recognized as the frontline guard who'd tried to stop us earlier, lifted me bodily up onto Minras' back and into Glorfy's arms.  

There was another arrow sticking out of my left leg that I hadn't even noticed, although I vaguely remembered getting really pissed off at the Orc who'd shot me and killing it.  I was covered in Orc blood, covered in my own blood…it was not the most beautiful of Elf-maidens that was brought before the High King, King Elendil and some other Generals.

Fiona was there.  With a cloak on, over top of that torn little bit of fabric that she'd used to entice the Orcs out of Mordor, but she was there.  Looking a lot better than I felt, although as though she really wanted to sleep. Her mare stood at her shoulder, and occasionally bent her head back around to nuzzle Fiona.  Fiona, I realized, was leaning heavily on the horse.

"Rhiannon!" she breathed when she saw me and – I guessed – realized it was actually me.  

"Hey," I whispered and tried to smile.  It was more of a grimace, really.  "Still alive?"

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried," she answered.  

"Good.  Same here."   I performed my patented half-fall-partial-dismount until Glorfy caught me and lifted me the rest of the way down from Minras.  I nearly swooned from the jolt putting my leg on the ground caused, but I shook it off and hobbled on my one good leg over to where Fiona stood.  "You're not wounded," I said wryly, looking her over.  "That's entirely unfair."

"And entirely fortunate," Gilly put in, "though I do not think others present see it that way."  He cast a particularly frank look towards Glorfy, who quite obviously bit back harsh words.  I know this, because the harsh words appeared in my mind.  I shan't repeat them, because they're not in the slightest polite.  I noticed that Gilly was back in King Mode – and radiating anger.

That was the last thing I noticed for a while.  I dimly realized that people were talking about things, but that was about it.  I figured at the time it would all sink in later, when I wasn't so numb.  I just wanted to sleep, or for someone to give me a painkiller to two that would knock me out so they could get these friggin' arrows out of me.  The ground became interesting as the seconds got slower, and slower and slower…I thought I felt something brush the back of my neck, and a horse whickered, and…

I wondered why they hadn't gotten the arrows out of me.  

I wondered why Orcs had felt it necessary to come out in such large numbers after two scantily clad Elf-maidens. 

I wondered where the hell Glorfy was, and why I couldn't hear him in my mind.

I wondered if the scrubby grass beneath us was as comfortable as it looked. 

And then I wondered why no one was catching me as I fell…             

"Rhiannon!"  

I don't know how much time had gone by until my name echoed off the insides of my head via my ears. 

_Minaimîr!_

"Wzzfuglfl?"  I swear – that's what I really said. 

"She's coming around," someone whispered excitedly.  "Rhiannon!  Can you hear me?"  

I looked around.  Or, really, tried to look around.  I realized, when I tried to move, that something was holding me down, and it was heavy.  It was dark, and something smelled really, really bad.

"Mum?"  It'd been a while since I'd seen my mum.  But then I realized that the voice didn't sound like mum at all.   

"Rhiannon, wake up!"

"But school doesn't start 'till eleven today!  Bugger off, David, I'm not passing you the cornflakes when you've already had two bowls!"

"What does she speak of?" someone asked.

 "Her youngest brother.  Rhiannon!"  

"I'm awake, I'm awake."  Higher brain functions and consciousness was returning.  "What's that smell?"  I tried to move again.  I couldn't feel my right arm or my left leg.  However, I _could_ – and didn't want to – feel several cuts, bruises, gashes, scrapes, and muscle cramps all over several other spots on my body.  It occurred to me after a few moments that it was dark because my eyes were closed, so I opened them.

Glorfindel and Fiona were leaning over me, two pairs of blue eyes watching worriedly.  They visibly relaxed when they realized I was awake and slightly more coherent.

It was not sky above them, but the canvas of a tent.  It was not an Orc that held me pinned to the ground (as I had suspected because of the smell) but several layers of blankets, which just goes to show you how weak I was.  I tried to move the toes on my left leg and was rewarded by my nerve endings firing.  I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to swear profusely.  I just swore a little.

"Did it work?" I asked, when I could open my eyes again.

Words burst out of Glorfy in Elvish, which I guessed to be both curses and words of endearment (I caught the words '_meleth_' and '_melyanna_' more than once…they're the only two I really know) by the flickering expressions that danced across his face, as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or relieved or…whatever.  I was further confused by the brushings of the mind he was sending me, and images and thoughts and…I blinked at the sensory overload.

"'Did it work'?" he finally exclaimed in a language I could immediately understand.  He looked across me to Fiona.  "She risks her life, is struck by two arrows, a sword and the blunt end of a javelin, narrowly misses being decapitated by an errant axe and wonders if the harebrained plot that got her into that mess to start with _worked_?"

"Apparently," Fiona replied levelly.  "Yes," she continued, looking back down at me.  "It worked.  Gil-galad took the gate, and we can hold it.  We're breaking camp soon to begin the long march to Barad-dûr."

"Bloody hell," I breathed.  I tried to think of what else I needed to know.  "Are you two okay?" I asked.  I knew she hadn't been wounded, but that wasn't what I was asking.

"Aside from a little exhaustion, I'm fine," Fiona said.  "And aside from an extreme case of the jitters, Glorfy's fine too.  Although, I've acquired a personal guard."

"What?"  There were a few vague memories concerning my getting out of the battle and what happened immediately thereafter.  

"You collapsed before this, but Ereinion assigned a permanent guard to me.  I'm not allowed to go anywhere without her, and we have to tell either her Glorfy, Elrond or Ereinion exactly what we're doing, where, why, and for how long."

I said nothing, and blinked.  "Pardon?" I said after a minute.  _Yeah bloody right_ was what I wanted to say, but didn't.  Except Glorfy heard me. 

_Melyanna_, he said warningly.  But Fiona was speaking again.

"Berialagor," Fiona said, indicating someone over in the corner of the tent.  I thought about moving my head, but didn't have to as the Elf-maiden came into view.

"Bloody fark," I breathed.  "So there are other females in the camp."

The Elf maiden blushed slightly.  "I have been assigned to watch your sister's back," she said.  "A most unexpected honour."

I raised one eyebrow, wondering how anyone could think having to put up with Fiona and I could possibly be considered an honour.  Especially with the plans we've been known to come up with…

_It is an honour to even be allowed to look upon you, my fairest,_ Glorfindel said in my mind.  I smiled up at him.

_Well, when you put it that way,_ I answered.

"Ereinion and I are getting married next week," Fiona said quietly, as though dropping such a bombshell in the middle of a conversation _wouldn't_ have the immediate effect of me squealing, rocketing up out of my bed with strength I didn't know I had and wrapping her in a hug so tight it wasn't until the pain receptors in my right arm shut down that I realized she couldn't breathe.

"Oh my bloody sweet Jebebus on a crutch!"  I hardly felt the blanket that Glorfy draped over my shoulders, and didn't really realize why he'd done so.  Until…

"Rhiannon?"

"Yes?"

"You do realize that you're naked, right?"

"Oh."  I slumped back down, but not in a desperate attempt to cover my nudity. More that I'd also just realized that I hurt _really badly_ in several different places at once.  "Ow."  The word hardly seemed accurate.      

"Well," I said a tad sarcastically once I'd laid back down again, and the pain had subsided.  "After the battle, I vaguely recall wondering why I was standing and being talked at with two arrows sticking out of me, and then I think I fell over.  That's about all I want to remember at the moment.  Was there anything else?"

"I've acquired a horse," Fiona said, a little sheepishly. "The mare I rode – when I healed her, I…gave her some of my life's energy, or something.  And now, I can…it's not like my bond with Ereinion – I can't read her thoughts, but I can feel her emotions."

 "Fark!" I envied her.  I've always wanted such a bond with a horse.  "What about mine?"

"The mare you rode, Minaimîr, made it safely back to camp though not with you on her back."  Glorfy was currently grinning, though his thoughts carried dire warnings if I ever considered pulling such a stunt again.  "She is penned now with the other horses."

I closed my eyes.  Horses have no place in the wars of the slightly more sentient races, though I'm exceedingly glad that I had one during the battle.  She bore me until I fell off.  I remained silent for a while, letting my eyes rest and the flashes of light behind them return to normal.

"You're getting married," I breathed and I could feel the blush on Fiona's cheeks.  "Bloody hell.  Bloody hell!"  I fell silent, and no one said anything.  "How long have I been out?" I asked after a while.  I opened my eyes and looked from one to the other.  "And what the bloody hell is that smell?"

"The smell is Elrond's medicine," Fiona said with a bit of a smile.  "You've got a dozen different poultices pasted all over your body, the biggest ones on your shoulder and your leg, where the Orc arrows got you, although he didn't bind those wounds until he'd removed the poison."

"Poison?" I exclaimed.  "I was bloody poisoned?"

"Orc blades and arrows often carry poison that is quick to stop the heart," Glorfy said softly.  "It is well Gildor and I reached you so quickly, or Elrond would have not been able to save you, even if he'd given his life for yours."

"He wouldn't do that," I whispered.  "He's still needed."  And that still didn't explain why they took so friggin' long to get those bloody arrows out of me.

Fiona was giving me warning looks about continuing to make cryptic remarks about the future of Middle-earth, so I didn't answer Glorfy when he asked me what I meant.

"And?" I prompted Fiona, trying to ignore Glorfindel's insistent questions that continued where no other could hear.

"As for how long you've been out…well…"

"Too long," Glorfy interjected.  "Much too long.  So close you came this time, _melyanna_, to passing to the Halls.  So close!  I could not have borne it if you had crossed, had left me to this world alone with naught to look forward to but emptiness."

I stared at him.  There was nothing I could say to that.

"But she's alive," Fiona said, and Glorfy nodded, looking at me gravely.  

"She is that," he said.  His hand smoothed my hair back out of my face.  

"So then it's okay if I hurt now?" 

"Aye, Minaimîr, because you won't be going _anywhere_ until you're better, and then only to Minas Ithil!  I won't have you running off to battle at every chance –"

"What?" I put in, wincing at the headache that sprang to life.  "Glorfy, we got you into Mordor for crying out loud!  You and your king and practically _everyone_ in this bloody army is convinced Fe and I were sent by the Valar to turn the tides of this Battle, allies against Sauron that will make sure his ass is kicked and stays that way!  We can't do that if we're not here!"

Glorfy started swearing in Elvish again and looked away.  I couldn't even begin to decipher the thoughts and emotions I could feel from him.  He seemed torn between wanting to keep me safe, and wanting to accept the help of the Valar.

But do I believe Fiona and I are Valar-sent?  It's an explanation, of course, and the only one we've so far been able to come up with, but there's no proof of that either way.  There was just the truck, then the tunnel, then the field and Dúmassë.  One would think that the nearest thing to gods that the Elves had would have…well, told us, given us a sign… You know, typical miracle stuff.  Of course, the fact that they didn't could just be the whole point.

_You said you would keep out of the battles_, his thoughts came, wounded and hurting, though his outward appearance was one of cool anger.

_Unless you or Fiona needed me,_ I replied as gently as I could.  _Fiona needed me.  She wanted me to stay, but it was my choice to not let my little sister go unprotected to the Gates.  If I hadn't been there…_ I let that thought sink in, in both our minds.

_If you had not gone, you would not be wounded now._

"And Fiona would be dead!"  It took me a moment to realize that I'd yelled that out loud.  Fiona's eyebrows went up, and she vanished from my side.

"I'll just wait outside, okay?" she whispered.  I heard the tent flaps move aside and then fall back into place as Fiona and Berialagor slipped outside.  No sooner than it had fallen back into place, Glorfindel was lying by my side.  He leaned over me, his golden hair pulled back in some sort of complicated braid, and smoothed my blankets, very carefully avoiding my eyes.

I pulled my left arm out from under the blankets and put my hand under his chin.  

_It is no crime to be selfish,_ I said, pulling his face towards mine.  _I know you wish that I'd stayed behind, but I couldn't have done that.  I'm not going to think on what could have happened, when what did happen has happened and I'm still alive._      

 He looked up and met my eyes, then.  There was fear in them, and it chilled me right to my aching feet.

_I would have passed, melyanna,_ he said. _I would have faded away and passed had you not come out of this alive.  If, Valar forbid, you do not come out of this alive, I will not long survive you._

I closed my eyes.  How could I deal with this?  How can I do anything now with the knowledge that my beautiful Elf will not continue if I die?  What if, in the seven or so years to come, there is a time when both Fiona and Glorfindel need me?  What do I do?

And then the answer hit me, but not nearly so hard as the butt end of a javelin.  I do what I can.  And what I can do now is stop worrying about what might be, and concentrate on _now_.

I opened my eyes.  And everything was new.   


	24. Wedding Countdown

Author's Note: My sincerest apologies that this took so long. In case you didn't read our author's notes where I put a message begging for your understanding, here's the lowdown: due to the fact that BoL's character "Rhiannon" gets knocked out for a few days after the Battle of Dagorlad and my character "Fiona" doesn't, it's taking me a while to "fill in" the story as it were. It's especially important for some character development I think (well, for the humourous side anyway...). I apologise that it is taking me so long, but having been launched back into rigorous routine that is university once more, I find myself with less time and energy with which to complete it.

Be warned, this may get very naughty in places (but never especially dirty, I don't think, so there's no sense in us up-ing the rating), and there's a lot of romance-y stuff (mixed with a lot of humour, so hopefully you won't mind). And yeah…Hope you like! Please review!

***********************************************************************

            Berialagor took me to a tent in Lord Círdan's camp, a part that I was unfamiliar with. I tried not to be too annoyed with being moved away, after all it was only for a week. Just one week, and then I'd be married to my love Ereinion. That notion both excited and scared me. Never in my entire life had I ever thought I'd be married at the age of 18. I hated guys, they were always so up themselves and if they had had any interest in me, they sure had had a funny way of saying it.

            But what really annoyed me, wasn't so much that Círdan had intervened- indeed, the sensible part of my mind pointed out that these were the same ethics I held to- but more that my sister Rhiannon had been taken to _Glorfindel's_ _tent_, and yet I was no longer allowed to live in Ereinion's tent. That's just a tad unfair, don't you think?

            What added fuel to the fire was that Rhiannon and I had a tent that we had previously used that no one had since moved into, a tent where _I_ could have watched over my wounded sister, but nobody had thought to let us reside there. No, no, it was far more logical to have me on the other side of the Elves' camps, away from my sister to whom I'd end up going to check on anyway and instead, to put her in Glorfindel's tent when they are not yet married either!

            Am I the only one who has noticed this injustice??

            Anyway, back to the story. Upon entering the small tent, I found a tunic and breeches waiting on the blankets that formed the bed (obviously word travels very fast). I noticed that like the previous tent I had shared with Rhiannon, this had a bed to either side, but as Berialagor sat down on the second bed, I realised that I would not be sharing with my sister again. That fact irritated me and I irrationally hated Berialagor for a moment…but that only lasted a moment before I remembered that she was other female company and somebody who had been an Elf all her life as opposed to just the last couple of weeks. 

            I threw off the cloak and was about to dress when I heard Berialagor gently reprimand, "My Lady…"

            I looked over at her, seeing her hold up a healing kit that I had not seen on the other bed. I sighed. She patiently applied salves to my bruises and cuts then gestured for me to get dressed, which I did quickly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable wearing just my flimsy underwear. I flopped onto the bed and looked over at Berialagor. "So what now?" I asked.

            "I have no further orders but to keep you safe for this time," Berialagor replied. "It would be best for us to remain here for the moment and not get caught in the confusion that often occurs following a battle. Therefore, I propose that we 'talk'."

            Oh, dear. "What about?" I asked warily.

            "Firstly, you have denied any physical relationship with the High King, that is correct?" Berialagor questioned.

            I blushed. "Well…yes." I said. When Berialagor looked at me curiously, I realised that I would have to explain further or she would not be entirely assured that I was still a virgin. "I once washed his torso over…and left him tied up with the washcloth."

            Berialagor almost choked on that. She blinked and tried to push the blush from her face. "Right…that is good- I mean! Um, I was referring to the fact that you and he haven't, er, been completely bonded. As our Lord Gil-galad's wife-to-be, you and he most of all must abide by the laws and customs of the Eldar."

            Damn…all those missed opportunities had apparently been a good thing. It still made me grumpy though (however much I still hold to my ethics of sex being only between a married couple. Call me old-fashioned, but that's what I believe in, though I won't hold it against anyone for being different…and no one should be nasty to me for holding to my own ideals about such issues).

            "As I understand it," Berialagor continued. "You were raised by humans, and thus these customs need to be explained?"

            That's one way of putting it. I nodded sheepishly.

            "Usually when two Elves wish to marry, their families would meet and the betrothal would be announced. Silver rings are traded, and the betrothal would stand for at least a year, though it could be longer. It could always been revoked during that period at any time- not that I think that's necessary for you to know, but it's best to give you all the facts. At the time of the betrothal, the betrothed then announce a date for the marriage- setting it past the traditional year of waiting- and then another feast was held at which the marriage was celebrated."

            Did I miss something? No vows, no exchanging rings, just skip to the reception? It sounded too good to be true.

            Berialagor took a deep breath and continued. "After the feast, the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom join the hands of the betrothed and bless them, in which Varda, Manwë and Ilúvatar are called upon as witnesses. The betrothed then exchange their silver rings, treasuring them, and instead give a slender gold ring which is worn upon the index finger of the right hand."

            Alright, the exchanging rings thing was in there…Nice…but I was still suspicious. "So the betrothed don't actually have anything to say? They just stand there?"

            Berialagor laughed. "Yes. Clearly these customs were made by one who the insight to know that brides and bridegrooms are very nervous on their wedding day and are likely to make a mess of things if left to do anything but the most simple of tasks." She gave me a sly sideways glance. "Or maybe it is that brides and bridegrooms have other things on their minds…"

            "Berialagor!" I exclaimed my voice becoming high pitched with a combination of indignation and laughter. It did nothing to help my blushing either.

            "There is also a tradition of the father of the bridegroom to give a necklace or something like that to the bride and the mother of the bride to give the bridegroom a similar gift. As we are at war, I imagine that that particular tradition will be kept for later. I have once observed Lord Círdan eyeing you and Lord Gil-galad with a hint of a smile on his lips; he may yet have foreseen this and found such a gift for you, though I do not know of it, if this is the case."

            I sighed a little bit embarrassed. "I have nothing to give Ereinion, nor any mother to bless us."

            Berialagor hesitated. "Would I be assuming too much if I offer myself to attend your wedding in your mother's place?"

            "You would do that for me?" I asked softly, so flattered that on top of all the other duties that Berialagor had now assumed, she offer yet more of herself, to be my mother for my wedding (and, I came to realise, in some other matters as well. She was my teacher about the Eldarin way of life which is what mothers essentially teach their children). "You will be my mother?"

            Berialagor nodded, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "If you don't want me to, that's fine-"

            I leapt across the tent and hugged her, ignoring the ungainly armour she wore. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I moved back for a moment, a thought coming to my head. "You will be my sister's mother too, won't you?"

            Berialagor was grinning. "Of course! I could hardly be a mother for only one of you!"

            We were still grinning as several talking Elves stopped outside our tent.

            "Did you hear?" the first asked.

            "Yes, and at long last, I say!" another answered.

            "She's young to be sure," a third commented. "But she is full grown and she will make our High King a splendid Queen."

            "I heard rumour that she is to be sent to Minas Ithil or Osgiliath once they are wed."

            "I hope not. If the Lady Anórmír and Minaimír can pull another stunt like that to win the war, I want them to be around to at least try it."

            "Nor I, though I am more concerned for an heir to the High Kingship than I am about another glimpse of expanses of the creamy skin of our King's Lady." The third put in with a brief chuckle.

            "Aye, we have waited eons for Gil-galad to even look upon an Elf-maiden with an eye of interest. If the High King dies, Elrond will refuse to take up the crown and then where will we be?"

            "Indeed. The sooner he has the sweet Lady's pleasures and her belly swollen with child, the better we will all feel, I think."

            There was collective murmur of agreement.

            Inside the tent however, I stood in dumbfounded silence, a look of almost horrified realisation on my face. (And just a tad bit annoyed…why did Elves have this obsession with talking about Ereinion and I in such innuendo?!)

            Berialagor gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I will go and talk to them. They should be more careful about what they say." She left the tent and I knew that she would not be going far.

            However, it was at this time more than any other perhaps, that I just wanted to be alone. I slowly sat down on the bed, still in shock. I suddenly felt like a silly little girl. I had not realised just how important my marriage to Ereinion was. Our mutual love was the cause for us to get married, but there was a great many other reasons why it was so much more necessary for it to happen as quickly as could be arranged, and if that meant the Elves must tolerate a very young Queen then they were willing to do so.

            I reminded myself that I knew there was Ereinion's other side, the side of him that everyone called Gil-galad; Gil-galad was the High King of the Elves in Middle Earth, he was their ruler, their leader and they would go through anything to do his will and he to do what was best by them. By marrying Ereinion, I married Gil-galad who was as much apart of him, as my heritage from being raised by humans. It was inevitable and logical. I knew that.

            The Elves needed security in the knowledge that even if Gil-galad should die, that they would not be left leaderless, that there would still be someone to look after their fair realm of Lindon at the end of the day. It was a mutually beneficial relationship between the High King and his subjects. I understood that.

            But, oh, how it hurt. It hurt to be spoken of as if I were worth little more than chattel. To the Elves under Gil-galad's reign, I was a step closer to their guarantee that everything would be well, regardless of what happened.

            I pulled back the covers on my bed and laid down, the tears falling from my eyes unnoticed. I was only 18 years old. Back home in Australia that meant I had only just reached the age where I was eligible to get married without my parents' consent. It was not the age I had expected to actually find myself in the position where my wedding was almost imminent. Nor was it the age I had imagined I would be having children. I had my whole life ahead of me- even as a human, my life had been there and I had every opportunity still to take and the possibility of the freedom to do it (except that I was broke, so I still lived my parents and thus I still had to live by their rules. I swear no other 18 year old has to be home before dark, like I did).

            To make it all worse, I would be obligated to get pregnant as soon as destiny would allow (since it was only really a question of how often Ereinion and I could find time to enjoy- *ahem*, sorry, I meant 'join' in- that most intimate of acts), almost right from the moment at which we were finally and absolutely declared to be wed.

            And if that wasn't bad enough, I still had that 'cycle' to go through whenever it would decide to show up. I still wanted to hit Elrond for describing it the way he had. Being likened to a bitch or mare in heat is not the most favourable of comparison to two girls who reject being treated as anything less than the equal of our male counterparts.

            Of course, it wouldn't be Ereinion who'd have to carry the baby for 9 months…wait a second…please tell me that Elves have the same gestation period as mortal women!!?? The prospect of nine months of carrying around a baby was bad enough…but if I had to have a huge belly for even longer than that…I don't think I'd cope.

            On the bright side, an image of a pregnant Gil-galad popped into my head and I struggled to restrain my helpless giggles as Berialagor re-entered our tent. I closed my eyes so hopefully she would get the message that I didn't really want to talk at that point in time. It wasn't because I was sad any longer. My tears now were ones of suppressed laughter. Can you just see it? Ereinion turns up in his gorgeous blue stately robes, huge belly sticking out in front, his hand rubbing his sore back and….HEEE HEEEEE HEEEE HEEEEE HEEEE!

            Even now I'm still cackling over that image. But what happened next was even better.

            I turned onto my side with my back to my guard, and tried to calm myself down. However my thoughts were not so much to myself as I had previously believed.

            _As far as I was aware, it was the females who carry the baby during pregnancy, meleth nín,_ Ereinion said dryly within the confines of my head. _Unless my former tutors were wrong and neglected to correct my assumptions_.

            See what I mean? It was to die for…it was so funny I just burst out laughing, not caring if Berialagor thought I was strange. I pushed my face into the pillow, trying to muffle my very noticeable amusement.

            I couldn't think of any reply to Ereinion, I just kept laughing, clutching my stomach as the muscles began to protest their overuse. Eventually I managed to get it down to just bursting into giggle every couple of seconds.

            Berialagor stared at me with one eyebrow raised. "Our Lord Gil-galad has been whispering thoughts of humour within your head?" she surmised. I nodded. "Might I enquire as to the nature of this joke that you find so funny, my Lady?"

            I laughed again, shaking my head, whilst wishing the red colour of my cheeks would disappear.

            After I had finally calmed down, I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping. I was awoken by Berialagor just after the sun had gone down, though here it was sometimes hard to tell, given the lack of clear sky to judge by.

            I didn't ask where we were going, but it turned out to be the main pavilion in Gil-galad's camp. As the tent flaps were opened for us, we found the leaders of the five different sections of the Alliance camp in attendance as well as Elrond.

            "Is-" I immediately began upon spotting the latter.

            "Your sister is alive and resting. We will know later the extent of her injuries though I have tended all the wounds that I could glean from her present state."

            I smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Lord Elrond. I'm guessing Lord Glorfindel has opted to stay with her?"

            "Indeed, that is the case," Elrond inclined his head, his lips twitching at the corners with a smile.

            "Lady Anórmír?" Círdan gestured to the empty seat between him and Ereinion.

            I feigned surprise as I moved to take my place. "I am allowed to sit next to him, my Lord?"

            Círdan laughed and Ereinion gave me a reprimanding pat on my bottom before I sat down.

            _Can I enquire as to what we are doing?_ I asked Ereinion silently. He did not answer, but meals were brought in by several soldiers along with two jugs of wine.

            "We have other matters to discuss this evening, Lady Anórmír. Though Lord Círdan thought it wise to permit the High King Gil-galad a small visit from his betrothed, seeing as though you will be separated quite often this week, prior to your wedding." Elendil advised me, glancing at Ereinion with a sly grin.

            "There is also the question of your guards to attend to," Ereinion said, taking up his knife and fork. "I have assigned two of my own guard to watch over your tent tonight and if they wish it, they will become part of your guard permanently."

            "How many guards do I have to have?" I asked curiously, a tinge of worry in my voice. Berialagor was alright, but now I had three and by the sounds of it, they would not be the last. I took a delicate bite of the creamy potato dish on the plate before me.

            "Berialagor will be with you at all times, of course," Ereinion explained. "Then another four guards for during the day following wherever you go, another four for during the night, and two guards set permanently to watch your tent."

            "Eleven?" I whispered in astonishment. "Isn't that a bit much?"

            "I do speak, of course, of the time when we are married," Ereinion amended gently. "Until then, there will be only five guards including your personal guard. Two for day, two for night. I would have assigned the eleven guards, but I have not yet chosen them and my advisors will not let me spare any more from my own guards."

            I nodded, still in shock. Eleven guards…I hoped they were only for while we were at this war and it wasn't as permanent as Ereinion was implying.

            "If I may interrupt, my Lords?" Berialagor enquired. Ereinion gestured for her to continue. She turned to me. "My Lady, as daunting as this number may seem, it will seem only bare in comparison to the number of guards you would have were you to become with child."

            I cringed inwardly.

            "Berialagor is right," Elrond put in. "Your guards would number 30 at the minimum if such a situation were to arise. And there would be at least two Ladies-in-waiting added to your entourage, to help you with the pregnancy and birth."

            Bloody buggering hell. Hadn't Elves ever heard of privacy? What were so many guards supposed to do? I mean, there are only four corners to a tent. What did the other two dozen think they were going to do in the mean time?

            "Ah, which reminds me," Círdan said, putting his napkin on the table and stepping outside to speak with an Elf who stood waiting for the purpose of running messages and errands.

            Círdan came back a few moments later. "Berialagor? If I may ask for your aid at this time? With the High King Gil-galad present, you needn't fear the Lady Anórmír running off anywhere she shouldn't be without you." Berialagor glanced at Ereinion and gave a short nod before heading out of the tent with Círdan.

            Anárion started up a conversation about moving troops out and, having nothing to contribute, I stayed quiet, eating my dinner mostly unnoticed. Like most brides-to-be, I was beginning to have a glimmer of doubt about this whole thing. I wanted to marry my beloved Ereinion, but I would have to put up with so many things that I didn't want, and we hadn't even been wed yet!

            _Anórmír__?_ Ereinion's deep voice was quiet within my head.

            I made an effort to smile up at him, but he seemed troubled still, though he said nothing else. He reached for his goblet and sipped some of its contents. With a wicked little grin, I brought up an image in my head, knowing that Ereinion would 'see' it in his thoughts also.

            His reaction was better than I could have anticipated. For instance, he _didn't_ throw me onto the ground and take me there and then. Instead, he choked into his goblet, though this went largely unnoticed by our present company, and he opted to almost crush the pewter cup in his strong hand.

            I could clearly sense his arousal and frustration and I tried to stop the smirk from showing on my face as I cackled wickedly through our bond.

            I chanced a glance at Elrond, who could see us clearly since Círdan had left his dinner so abruptly. He raised one eyebrow, indicating that he knew very well that Ereinion and I were conversing privately. I tried to stop the grin on my face spreading, quickly lowering my gaze to the half-empty plate before me and taking another mouthful of the delicious pepper steak pie.

            To my utter disappointment, Círdan chose to arrive back a few minutes later followed by Berialagor and two other guards, presumably from Ereinion's own.

            "Ah," Ereinion said, keen for a distraction that didn't come from me. "My Lady, if I may introduce Túmagol and Túmegil. They will be the other two guards who watch over you until tomorrow morning at which time your other guards will be selected. They were part of my father's own guard until he sent me to the Havens to live with Lord Círdan, and since then they have served me faithfully."

            A single glance revealed that Túmagol and Túmegil were identical twins and their proud look of stern duty caused me to be somewhat disheartened. This was beginning to feel more and more like imprisonment.

            "If the Lady Anórmír has finished, Berialagor, Túmagol and Túmegil will show her back to her tent." Lord Círdan suggested.

            I knew a dismissal when I heard one. I removed the napkin from my lap and with a quick kiss to Ereinion's cheek (that he hadn't been expecting) I walked back to 'my' tent with Berialagor in the lead and the twin-guards bringing up the rear.

            I was surprised to find that yet another Elf-maiden had been set up in the tent and had brought a large trunk with her. This Elf-maiden, however, wore no armour and though I knew little about Elves, her clothes seemed suited to travelling thus I surmised correctly that she had only recently arrived.

            "My Lady," the Elf-maiden curtsied politely.

            I blinked. Covering up for my awkwardness, I smiled and giggled. "My sister and I were beginning to doubt the existence of other female Elves and now suddenly I am finding there are so many of them here!" I gave the newly-arrived Elf-maiden a hug in greeting.

            The Elf-maiden smiled. Like Berialagor, she was many centuries- possibly even eons- older than Rhiannon and I.

            "Lady Anórmír, this is Sadoriel. Lord Círdan requested a lady-in-waiting for you from Lindon and Sadoriel was chosen by the High King's mother to be your companion." Berialagor informed me.

            Ereinion's mother? I hadn't realised that my beloved's mother was still in Middle Earth…I made a note to ask about her later, as Sadoriel had sat me on my 'bed' and was now brushing my long hair.

            I like having my hair brushed, especially by someone else. Do you ever feel like that? It's kind of nice to be primped and pampered and not have to worry about things for just that short time.

            I closed my eyes, enjoying myself immensely. Apparently my afternoon nap had not been enough to suffice, as I don't actually remember falling asleep, though I do recall waking up to find myself tucked in comfortably beneath the blankets, though thankfully still wearing my tunic (what had happened to the boots and trousers I'm not entirely certain) and the tent was dark.

            The reason for my waking became apparent as the tent-flap opened and Berialagor stood in its opening, preventing much of the torchlight from outside to enter. I heard quiet voices conversing in Elvish, to which Berialagor's was added heatedly. I heard my surrogate mother mention "Círdan" in her response to whoever was standing without.__

            "Berialagor," the sterner, deeper, familiar voice warned. Adrenaline raced through my veins in recognition.

            Berialagor bowed her head, though not entirely happy about it, and stepped aside to allow Ereinion to enter.

            Ereinion ducked as he came in and I sat up in bed, unable to keep from smiling. His eyes glanced at Sadoriel and I sensed his mild irritation at the extra chaperone that Círdan had so cleverly arranged for me without Ereinion being any the wiser.

            Sadoriel already sat up in her bed, keeping an eye of my beloved and I couldn't help smirking at him.

            "I was hoping my Lady might grant me a proper kiss good night," Ereinion said softly as he knelt beside me.

            "Was my kiss before not proper also, my Lord?" I teased.

            "It was more than what would have dared before the other Lords of this Alliance, yet less than what I would have liked," Ereinion whispered heatedly, wrapping his arms around me and covering my mouth with his own. _Be thankful that Círdan has thought to give you added protection from me, or I swear I would have my revenge on you for what you did to me at dinner._

            I chuckled inwardly, sliding my arms around his neck. Ereinion slipped one of his hands down, not breaking our kiss, and pushed his hand beneath the blankets to caress my bare legs.

            I was panting heavily when he finally withdrew from the kiss. "Ereinion," I breathed desperately, only too glad when he complied and closed the distance again to taste my mouth. He was intoxicating, more than any wine could ever be. Driving me to distraction so that I barely realised where we were, let alone that we still had company, and Ereinion slid his hand up my thigh pushing my tunic up along with it…

            "Ereinion Gil-galad!"

            We broke apart as though we'd been caught doing something we shouldn't have (which was true enough). Círdan stood with his arms crossed, looking meaningfully at us.

            I heard Ereinion cursing, though he was wise enough not to say any of it aloud.

            Sadoriel peered out from behind Círdan; it seemed she had left the tent and swiftly gone to fetch the Lord of the Grey Havens who was perhaps the only person who could deny Ereinion anything. Círdan stepped out of the doorway and I noticed somewhat embarrassedly that Túmagol, Túmegil and several other Elves in armour that I didn't recognise were all peering in through the open tent flap. Each face held a wide grin or a badly-suppressed smirk as they gazed upon my beloved and I.

            Ereinion stood up, blocking my view, though I was a little grateful to be out of the spotlight as it were. It was like being caught in those big spotlights that you see in the war movies featuring prison camps- an ironic simile, I thought.

            Ereinion and Círdan spoke shortly in Elvish so I didn't understand what was said, but it ended with Ereinion being extradited from my tent, glancing ruefully at me before he was out of my sight. 

            Círdan just smiled at me and shook his head. "May the Valar help us all, Lady Anórmír, the High King cannot keep his hands off you even for a week."

            "But our dreams will be all the sweeter for it, I think," I replied shyly.

            Círdan laughed heartily, shaking his head as he left me alone with Berialagor and Sadoriel once more.

            I couldn't help a guilty blush rising in my cheeks as Berialagor and Sadoriel stared down at me.

            "My Lady…" Berialagor began, but then she seemed to think better of it. "You should get some rest. I suspect you will need it to hold off the High King Gil-galad, as I have no doubt he will be attending the tournament to decide your other guards."

            "Tournament?" I repeated.

            "The High King and Lord Círdan have let all of their commanders know to pass on the word that whoever should wish to be part of your guard- or to fill in the places of the High King's guard, if Túmagol and Túmegil should decide they wish to retain their places as part of the Queen's guard- then they are to attend a meeting in the central practice area of the High King's camp. Any Elf who doesn't wish to compete for the honour, will be helping to pack up tents and equipment and moving out to the siege at Barad-dûr."

            "But that is tomorrow," Sadoriel said. "And there is much to be done tomorrow."

            I got the impression there was more to that than anyone was telling me…but sleep overcame me once more and I did not ask.

            The 'tournament' the next morning was an interesting affair to say the least. Berialagor and I arrived after checking on Rhiannon in Glorfindel's tent and leaving Sadoriel there to give my sister a well-needed bath. Only a lot of self-restraint stopped my jaw from dropping at the sight before me, though my eyes widened in bewilderment.

            "Quick, Berialagor, you had better go tell them that's it's not really the honour they think it is," I joked weakly, trying to feel more at ease.

            Berialagor surveyed the several hundred Elves who had turned up. "There's a lot more than even I had expected, my Lady. This may take much longer than anticipated."

            I glanced up at her, but she made no other remark. Annoyed, I replied, "Stop calling me 'my Lady'…I have a name and I would like it much better if you were to use it."

            "As you wish, my Lady."

            I wasn't given an opportunity to retort as Círdan strode up to us from behind. "Lady Anórmír…I hope you will not mind if I accompany you this morning?"

            "So long as my Lord Gil-galad does not become jealous," I replied, strolling over to where Elrond and Ereinion were arranging the 'events' of the tournament.

            "My Lord Círdan, Lady Anórmír," Elrond greeted, trying not to seem as harried as he was. He glanced up at Ereinion. "We're going to have to organise them all into groups, my Lord."

            Ereinion nodded. "Put them into groups of twenty-four. Four pairs of each group shall duel while the rest look on. Each group should yield only 3 warriors by the end of this day, after which point we test their skills in all areas and the best of them shall be selected as Anórmír's guards."

            "And an additional two to replace Túmagol and Túmegil from your own guard," Círdan reminded.

            "Aye," Ereinion agreed.

            "Lady Anórmír will need at least another two guards chosen for her guard today," Berialagor added. "Three of us is not enough to protect her day and night while we wait for her new guards to be finalised."

            Ereinion sighed. "I know that. I am hoping that there shall be several who show themselves to be particularly good with a sword. I cannot think of any better way at the moment."

            "Why don't you let Anórmír decide?" Elrond suggested lightly.

            Their eyes all turned to me. I feigned shock. "What? You mean I actually get to do something? I suppose I was wondering what I was meant to be doing today aside from watching a lot of people fight each other, of course."

            My Elven beloved stepped towards me, taking me in his arms. "I am most sorry that this has fallen upon you so quickly and without much warning, but in these troubled times, I have neither the leisure to court you romantically as I wish I could, nor can I afford to be lax in my protection of you. Many of these guards will be unnecessary if you reside within the borders of an Elven realm. With the exception of Berialagor, you will not be constantly accompanied by these guards unless you travel beyond the borders of our realms."

            "Merciful Elbereth," I praised. I remembered something and eyed Ereinion curiously. "Did you sleep well last night?"

            Ereinion only grinned then went to help Elrond sort out the teams of 24.

            There's not much else I can say for the tournament really, it was spectacular to see the Elves fighting…they're so graceful yet they move with deadly accuracy.

            I did notice a certain amount of stiffness and a slight sense of jealously radiating from Ereinion when he turned from watching the competitors of one group to where I watched another. His jealous stemmed from the fact that I was so fascinated by the quick movements of the fights before me that my concentration on all else waned, and I could not draw my eyes from the combatants until one or the other had triumphed over his opponent. That did not mean that I did not glance at Ereinion often nor that I was unaware of his feelings; quite the contrary. But I never looked at him when he was looking at me, and he was rather childishly upset about it, though he tried to keep those emotions in check for that same reason.

            Noon came and the group was barely a hundred Elves less than it had been at the start. I thought maybe everyone would disperse for lunch, but as several Elves brought out a huge pot of stew to put on a table that was crowded on one half with bowls, I realised everyone would be eating while they watched.

            Getting somewhat tired of this competition and not feeling very hungry at all, I turned to look around to observe how much of the camp still remained (most of it, rather surprisingly) and by chance, I spotted another friend.

            I glanced at Berialagor. "Would it be entirely rude if I were to go and thank the mare who saved me in the battle?"

            Berialagor looked at the combatants and onlookers. Their attention was clearly elsewhere, and no one so much as glanced our way. "I do not think so."

            We silently slipped away towards the horse pens where my newly-acquired horse whinnied in greeting. I climbed the railing and moved further into the crowd of horses, in the hopes I would not be spotted, my mare followed of course and I patted her and rubbed her nose in gratitude and appreciation. She was a beautiful horse, tall and lithe, she was bred for speed rather than a real war horse. And she was as happy to see me as I was to see her.

            I sensed my beloved coming up behind me, and I smiled. _Trying to sneak up on me?_

            _Nay, bain hiril nín,_ Ereinion replied as I turned around.

            _Shouldn't you be watching the 'tournament'?_ My expression became one of shock as my horse nudged me and I suddenly found myself in Ereinion's arms.

            His voice chuckled in my head at my mare's antics. _Even Lossúl wants to help us find the opportunity to be together._

_            Lossúl?_

_            The name of your mare. You chose well. She is one of the swiftest horses in the herds of Lindon and had not yet been claimed by any Elf. She will obey you faithfully to the death, if need be._

            _It's a nice sentiment, but I hope it will never come to that_, I replied, forgetting that it almost had. 

            _Agreed.__ And I doubt you will ever be in such a situation ever again. I could not bear to face the same fear and torment I felt when I learnt of what you and your sister had done._ Ereinion fervently sealed my mouth with a deep kiss.

            I will never get tired of kissing Ereinion, and as it seemed that that small act was all we were allowed to do until we were wed, we were determined to do so at every opportunity.

            But as fate would have it, our precious moments were always interrupted by an equally determined Elf-lord chaperone.

            I heard Lord Círdan's voice speaking with Berialagor at the fence, but it didn't completely register in my conscious mind (hey, if you knew what it was to be kissing Ereinion, you would understand that everything around us doesn't matter) until I heard Lord Círdan shout something to the horse master, who whistled a small tune and called something to the horses in Elvish.

            The horses moved to the sides so that all on the tournament fields could plainly see my beloved and I. Lossúl stood behind me, nudging me against Ereinion, even though I didn't think the distance could be much closer lest we…

            *cough* I'll leave that thought for you to figure out on your own.

            Needless to say, the Elves immediately turned to watch us and there was soon an uproar of cheers and whistles. I was blushing immensely now, but Ereinion kept his hand behind my head and his arms around my body, so that I could not break our kiss. When I gave myself up to our embrace once more, Ereinion waved a hand at the Elven soldiers as if to say 'Settle down, be quiet', though this caused several Elves to laugh because the High King wouldn't remove his lips from his Lady's even to tell his command to pipe down.

            At last Ereinion decided we would have to stop our tongue-duelling (well, that's the only other word for 'kissing' that I can come up with…and it's true enough, though if there'd been a winner, it had definitely been him) and we reluctantly withdrew.

            I was breathless still, and I rested my head against his chest while our senses reeled. _My Lord…my love…I do not think you should tempt me like this again_, I whispered in his mind. _I do not think I could wait another week to be wed…_

            I could feel Ereinion beam with delight as he tightened his arms around me. _As I said a week at the latest, meleth nín.__ We can always wed sooner…_

            I considered this, with a brief thought as to whether it'd be possible for us to wed today…but the logical, reasonable part of my mind knew that I needed the extra time to ready myself for what I was getting into. _Tempting…but I think it would only be fair if we were to give the cooks and others a bit more time to prepare_.

            Ereinion sighed, tinged with disappointment. Apparently his night had been of a worse kind of sleeplessness than I had originally guessed. "As you wish."

            We returned to watch more of the fighting, holding hands this time; it seemed Círdan was going to be a slight bit more lenient in his chaperonage given that he had revealed us to so many of Ereinion's command (those same who were fighting to become my guards). 

            One of the same pairs that had been fighting when I'd left to check on Lossúl were still fighting when Ereinion and I reached the group to watch. They were trying very hard to best one another, and it made for a spectacular performance. The opponents' grins made it clear that they were enjoying the fight as much as people were watching it.

            It became even funnier when I recognised one of them as Rúmion, the Elf who had first flirted with me in the dinner queue and then teased Ereinion when the High King had come in to make sure everyone there knew I was not 'up for grabs' so to speak (what a bad phrase and unintended pun I have picked, but I can't think how else to explain it).

            I glanced up at Ereinion, wondering what he thought of it and I could tell he was grudgingly acknowledging that these two were an exceptional pair. I recalled what Elrond had said about me being able to pick the two who would be my other two guards until the tournament was finished and I decided that Rúmion and his opponent should be those two.

            I stepped into the circle of people, strolling up to them seemingly without a care. I felt Ereinion's heart jump as I walked casually between the other sword-wielding combatants and he strode forward quickly to join me.

            _These two?_ I heard Ereinion asked plaintively.

            _Aye.__ They have shown themselves to be the best I have seen all day._ I answered.

            _Did you have to choose Rúmion and Thangail?_ Ereinion was clearly not very happy with my choice. I heard him sigh inwardly though, as he hadn't said that I wasn't allowed to choose my guards when Elrond had suggested it and however much he was dubious about their character, Ereinion knew that Rúmion and Thangail would protect me extremely well in the situation of an attack.

            Rúmion and Thangail noticed us standing waiting for them and they immediately sheathed their swords and bowed low.

            "My Lord King, Lady Anórmír," they said, then rose to stand tall.

            Ereinion almost hesitated before he spoke. "Rúmion and Thangail of Lindon, you have shown yourselves to be worthy of protecting my Lady, the future High Queen of the Elves. I ask if you would accept this task, knowing that the consequences of doing so could result in dire events?"

            Formalities. I'd almost forgotten. I'm glad Ereinion did the speaking. I probably would've botched it up otherwise.

            "Your Majesty, I speak for us both when I say that is a high honour you place on us, and we gladly accept." Rúmion said as he and Thangail bowed low again.

            "If you will accompany Berialagor and Lady Anórmír to her tent?" Ereinion said.

            I raised an eyebrow at my beloved. _Don't I get to watch the rest of it?_

            _There will be other days for you to continue watching._ Ereinion replied. I knew that what he really wanted was for me to be out of the way so he would be able to pick 'sensible' Elves to be the remainder of my guard for when we were married. I was a little annoyed by that, but at the same time my recent victory in gaining two guards who seemed to absolutely irritate my husband-to-be made it hard to dampen my spirits.

            Apparently my glee on the matter of my 'victory' was felt by Ereinion as I paid for it dearly later that night.

            We stopped at Glorfindel's tent so I could check on my sister, who was no worse than she had but little better either. I sent a silent prayer to Eru that she would be alright. Glorfindel had a haunted look in his eyes, and I feared that if my sister didn't pull through or if she tried this again, he would end up back in the Halls of Mandos again. I said nothing, knowing I'd only make matters worse between my sister and her Elven love.

            Sadoriel returned with us to 'my' tent in Círdan camp, and immediately began the process of occupying my time. She opened the trunk she had brought with her and I was stunned to find numerous Elven gowns packed carefully inside along with several hair clips and combs. Sadoriel explained that whilst I resided in the war camps I may not always have the opportunity to wear these beautiful dresses and my wardrobe would be sparse compared to what I would have upon my arrival in Lindon, where Ereinion's mother, the Lady Tinnulin, was elatedly awaiting the time when she would meet her unknown daughter-in-law-to-be. Apparently Círdan and Lady Tinnulin had intuitively known that Ereinion and 'a young Vanyarin maiden' would eventually marry and when I turned up and our mutual attraction became obvious, Círdan knew I was indeed the one they had foreseen.

            Nice, so I've been destined to marry Ereinion since before I was born. If that's not creepy enough, there's some issues of 'cradle-snatching' that Rhiannon and I have only glossed over in thought as well.

            But true love makes these things irrelevant anyway, so I'm not going to bother speaking of them further.

            Sadoriel didn't show me my wedding gown or its accessories, but she did select a pale silvery blue dress that sat off the shoulders with long flowing sleeves and an ornate silver belt of flowers that hung across my hips. The skirt of the dress trailed slightly and I privately felt the dress was far too good to look at, let alone wear. 

            Once I was in the gown, Sadoriel went about arranging my hair with the matching silver flower comb. She pulled my hair up into a sort of bun at the top of my head, held there by the comb, whilst letting much of my masses of golden waves and curls fall down my back.

            "You should not tempt the High King," Berialagor observed to Sadoriel. "He is already smitten with Anórmír, now that you have revealed her great beauty I do not think we shall be able to tear her from him at all tonight, Elbereth help us."

            I blushed, secretly pleased with my surrogate mother's praise. I hoped I did nothing to stuff up tonight. I couldn't bear the humiliation if I did.

            "Ladies?" Rúmion called. "Are you ready? Lord Círdan has sent word to us that Ereinion has arrived at his tent already and is anxious to see his betrothed again."

            "A second longer if you please," Sadoriel called back, quickly but carefully applying colour to my lips with what looked like a kind of lip gloss.

            When she was done, Berialagor held the tent flap open and I stepped lightly into the cool evening where Rúmion and Thangail were floored and they immediately stood taller.

            "May I say, sweet Lady, that you are paragon of beauty," Thangail complimented outrageously. "There be many hearts that you will break when the Elves see you thus."

            "Aye, the High King should consider himself fortunate that he looked upon you first, or surely his soldiers would have turned from fighting the Enemy to fighting for your favour," Rúmion added with a cheeky grin.

            I blushed but smiled.

            "Stop it, you two," Berialagor said a smile on her face as well. Thangail and Rúmion led me to Lord Círdan's council tent where several Elves 'guarded' the 'door'. Their eyes lingered on us as we approached and they hastily moved to pull the flap aside so I could enter.

            Funny how people can be the soul of courtesy when a young female is all dressed up…

            Ereinion had been sipping wine, sitting lazily in his seat, staring at one of the standards in Círdan's tent, but he immediately put down his goblet and got to his feet upon sighting me. He didn't seem able to speak, so it was Círdan who invited me to sit down on Ereinion's left hand side.

            "Anórmír," Ereinion breathed, eyeing me appreciatively.

            "Yes, my Lord?" I replied softly as I moved to take my seat.

            Ereinion quickly pulled my chair out for me, like the perfect gentleman- or rather, gentleelf. He sat back down, still completely stunned.

            I couldn't help silently gloating at his enrapture. Aye, he was mine and mine alone.

            Give me a break, we all have our faults. Vanity and pride are mine (among others that you've no doubt noticed).

            Ereinion was unnaturally quiet during the meal, leaving Lord Círdan and I to fill in the silence. I didn't have a lot to say either, but I greatly enjoyed Lord Círdan's tales of my beloved's childhood. Lord Círdan is an extraordinary storyteller and let no one tell you otherwise. I spent a lot of time laughing and even Ereinion smiled or groaned when he realised the particular tale of which Círdan was enlightening me. My Elven Love kept glancing at me when he thought we weren't paying attention, and he'd squeeze my hand beneath the table as if to make sure that I was really there with him.

            As we finished our meal, Ereinion became increasingly edgy. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept glancing up at Círdan; Ereinion was not so kingly now in this state of palpable nervousness.

            Círdan casually swilled his wine around in his goblet before draining the last of it and it was clear he had made his decision to end the High King's misery. Standing up, he moved over to a table where a dark blue velvet pouch lay. "Before the High King leaves to finish up the paperwork he has been neglecting- in other words, before you must both be parted for another night, Lady Anórmír- there is the issue of officialising your betrothal." He opened the pouch and withdrew something- which I knew to be the silver ring that would symbolise my 'official' betrothal to Ereinion- and passed it to the High King of the Elves (who looked like he might have almost being sweating…I doubt I shall forget that moment and I confess that later I would tease him merciless about it).

            Ereinion took my right hand in his left and slipped the ring on my index finger. It fitted perfectly. I knew at once that the silver used for the ring was _mithril_; it shone brightly even in the dim light of the lamps overhead. The ring was studded with tiny star-shaped diamonds that glittered like their real counterparts. The beauty and craftsmanship of the ring far surpassed anything a jeweller could have come up with back home.

            I smiled with joy and took the identical ring from Círdan's offered palm and repeated the gesture with my husband-to-be.

            Simultaneously, Ereinion and I lent in for a soft kiss.

            Eventually though, it was time for me to leave once again; as Berialagor had predicted, it was something Ereinion was extremely reluctant to do. He held me gently with his hands on the sides of my waist, as though frightened that his hands- strong from the continuous weapons practice throughout his life- would somehow break me like I was a fragile flower. His kisses matched this sentiment, his lips gently resting on mine.

            At last, my beloved seemed to find his voice. "Anórmír…" he whispered achingly. "My beautiful, lovely lady…my future bride…" He sighed wistfully. "How can I concentrate on this war when I know what fair company I have had to forfeit this night?"

            "We would not have been allowed to spend this whole night together," I reminded him with a soft giggle. "And if you remember that as soon as this war is over, we will have been wed and that our time together will endure less frequent interruptions…then I am sure you will find your concentration." I ran my hand over his cheek and over his hair as I knew he liked.

            "Mmmm," Ereinion murmured, closing his eyes as a small smile lit his features. "You make it very hard to leave, my Lady…"

            As I brought my hand back, I gently- seemingly accidentally- brushed the tip of my beloved's pointed ear. He gasped almost silently, his eyes opening immediately. "But leave I must. I hope you will find time to rest tonight, my Lord. I would hate to attend the remainder of the 'tournament' by myself tomorrow."

            With that, I gave him a cheeky smile and left the tent (though not before I heard Círdan's snickering become undisguised laughter).

            I sensed Ereinion's emotions conflicting- his desire in the wake of my soft caress of his ear, the worry that I would be attending the 'tournament' again (he didn't seem to like me watching so many males compete for the chance to protect me. I personally no longer had any qualms about it other than that I didn't really think I needed protection. I have a talent for getting in and out of trouble with minimal injury to myself) and also his impatience at having to wait to be married and be able to do those things that married couples do (and some unmarried couples…though this is apparently not an option for people of high standing).

            It was that last point that made me begin to wonder if Elf males also had something akin to Elf females 'in heat' time…or maybe it's just a male failing that mortals were unaware that Elves had…

            I was escorted back to the tent I shared with my lady-in-waiting and lady-at-arms by Berialagor, Túmegil and Túmagol. It seemed the changing of my guards had already happened while I was otherwise occupied.

            Fun though it was to dress up, I was glad when Sadoriel helped me into one of the loose slips from my bag that we had decided would be suitable enough to be in place of a proper nightgown (remarkably, Sadoriel admitted that she and Lady Tinnulin hadn't packed any such garments as in their excitement to hear that the High King was looking favourably upon a young Vanyarin maiden they had thought only of enticing him into marriage which of course was unnecessary by the time Sadoriel arrived).

            I settled down under the soft blankets and closed my eyes, willing sleep upon my weary mind. But sleep would not come. 

            It was at this point that my gleeful victory about my two newest guards was paid back in full by Ereinion himself; my mind was beset by…images…_erotic_ images…like an R-rated movie they played vividly in my head…

            I tried to push those thoughts away (where the hell had they come from? Or so I had thought at the time), but the soft brushing of another's awareness became too obvious to miss, I opened my eyes and gasped.

            _Ereinion__!_ I protested through our mind connection. _My love, you should not be-_

            But he sent me another image, as if he were in the tent beside me right at that moment, pressing his fingers to my trembling lips as he slid the strap of my nightgown off my shoulder…

            That time I sat bolt upright, a hand to my chest trying to catch my breath. I looked around the tent just to be certain he wasn't there (no way was I going to let him do those kinds of things until we were married!) and I blushed as I met the concerned glances of Sadoriel and Berialagor.

            "My Lady, are you alright?" Sadoriel enquired worriedly.

            What could I say? "I'm fine…just…a disturbing dream…" I replied, settling myself back down on my blankets. "It is of no consequence. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." I turned over so that I would not have to face them as Ereinion renewed his mischievous thoughts within my head.

            Needless to say, I did not get any sleep that night.

            I had just started to drift off with exhaustion (Ereinion had stopped his naughty thinking only a little while before what I guessed must have been sunrise) when Sadoriel shook my shoulder gently.

            "My Lady? Lady Anórmír, the camp stirs- you must get up now." She said softly.

            I buried my head in the pillow miserably. "Must I? I have had no sleep at all this night."

            "Lady Anórmír, you will miss watching the remainder of the tournament today if you stay here," Berialagor reminded as she buckled her sword belt on.

            Despite my drowsiness, Berialagor's statement clicked in my head with another piece of puzzle I had previously been unable to solve.

            "So that's why he did it," I mumbled.

            "My Lady?" Sadoriel queried confused.

            "That's why Ereinion kept my mind awake all night- he didn't want me to attend. He knew I'd be too tired come morning." I put my hands over my face and gritted my teeth.

            "Kept you awake all night?" Berialagor repeated, unable to hide the hint of amusement in her voice. "Pray tell, Lady Anórmír, how did he manage this?"

            By putting his dirty thoughts into my sweet little mind, I thought to myself. Aloud I said, "Never you mind. But I am going to need actual sleep- which will mean skipping the tournament, however much I dislike letting him win. I don't have a better excuse than the one I just gave you, so we'll just let them all think that I'm still recovering from my escapades during the battle. I don't want any visitors, and I don't care how urgent it is- not even if there's orcs outside the door- I don't want to be disturbed."

            "She sounds like a Queen already," Berialagor commented to Sadoriel who was trying to hide her smile behind her hand.

            "That's because I got no sleep and I'm grumpy," I said, pulling the blankets back up over my shoulders. "Sweet Dreams." And with that, I turned over and finally found undisturbed rest.

            Well…until Glorfindel barged in.

            Glorfindel was, to be mild, worried. He stormed into my tent without once heeding my guards' words, and began pacing back and forth, mindless of Berialagor and Sadoriel.

            "What was Minaimîr thinking?" he raved. "She is always getting herself injured so badly! Will she not listen to either of us? Has she no concern for her safety? I should have been there! I should have never let her leave my sight – or my mind! I let her fool me into a false security and now she lies unconscious in my tent and Lord Elrond says that she does not seem to be getting better, though he tries to assure me she is no worse than before. What am I to do?"

            I glared up at him with sleepy eyes. I was not impressed with his choice of timing to come and whinge to me about my sister's inadvertent stupidity. "Here's just a few ideas- select any or all of them at your pleasure: 1) Sit by herself chewing yourself to pieces until you're so guilt-ridden that you take a second trip to visit the Halls of Mandos. 2) Marry her. Nice and simple, this one should curtail most dumb ideas before she gets a chance to act on them. 3) Get her pregnant. I would highly recommend doing this _after_ Idea #2, as it might just get a little embarrassing for you to explain to the many different Lords and Kings that your Elven girlfriend is pregnant to you out of wedlock. 4) Send her away from the Last Alliance- perhaps Minas Ithil, as this would still allow you to visit her, she would be away from the fighting and therefore any plans of idiocy performed would be less likely to result in her death or serious injury. Or if you want something that can be done immediately, I must advice you to do Idea #5 if you value your health and/or chances of ever fathering children someday. 5) Get out of my tent and go find something productive to do to relieve your bored and mindless energy until such time as there is further news on my sister's situation."

            Glorfindel stared at me, suddenly noticing that I was still abed at a daytime hour with my personal guard and lady-in-waiting staring at him. He shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to say now.

            "I have not had a lot of sleep this last night as my future husband-to-be thought it would be extremely funny- not to mention convenient for his own purposes- to show me through our mind-link the sorts of things he'd very much like to do to me- correction, _will_ do with me once we are finally wed. I would be most grateful if you would simply RACK OFF!" I said, ending on a growl. "Forgive me if I lack the necessary courtesy and diplomacy to talk politely, but whilst my sister may be gravely injured- as I haven't forgotten, nor have I stopped caring, but I thought surely you would know her well enough by now to know that regardless of how bad she is wounded she always manages to pull through- there is a simple little fact that you have overlooked. I NEED SLEEP. NOW!"

            Glorfindel's face was bright red by the time I finished my tirade. "Forgive me, my Lady-" he began apologetically, trying not to choke in embarrassment on his words.

            My patience worn out and my need for sleep was too great, so I decided to help Glorfindel along. "OUT! NOW!" I yelled. 

            Glorfindel did a very quick double-take and ran out of my tent so quickly his usual grace seemed to have been compromised in favour of the extra speed that would get him out of the path of my wrath.

            "Can't people just leave me alone when I'm sleeping?" I asked exasperatedly to Berialagor and Sadoriel, both who looked like they were trying to pick between being shocked and amused. 

            It was Sadoriel who first found her voice, strangled though it was. "My Lady…did my Lord King Gil-galad _really_ bethink you those things?"

            I stared blankly at her, forgetting for a moment that my handmaiden knew nothing of how dirty her king's mind actually was. Whoops. Big boo-boo there.

            "No," I said waving it off what I hoped was casually. "Of course not. But it sure made an impression on Glorfindel, didn't it?"

            Sadoriel nodded slowly, dubiously accepting what I had said. Berialagor didn't looked the slightest bit convinced, as evident by the troubled look on her face.

            "Now, I'm sorry to end the conversation here," not really, I wasn't, "but I'd rather like to finish my nap."

            My fortune that day held its gleefully steady stream of bad luck. I was woken up only a couple of hours later by Berialagor.

            Groggily and more than a little bit irritable, I woke up.

            "He's taking a leak, my Lord." I heard Thangail explain to someone outside.

            "Very well. Now will you move aside? I wish to see my Anórmír before dinner." Ereinion sighed.

            Damnit, I just want to be left alone to sleep! By now I was wide awake, and aware of a breeze coming into the tent from behind me.

            "She's currently sleeping, my Lord," Thangail informed my love. "She gave orders that no one was to disturb her. Apparently she had a sleepless night. Though no doubt this was due to her ordeal over the past few days." Yeah, keeping a randy Elvenking at bay.

            I looked back at the back of my tent which now had an opening in which Rúmion stood, gesturing for me to be silent and come. I stood up with Berialagor's help and Sadoriel threw a cloak around my shoulders and pulled the hood up before I stepped out.

            Rúmion led me to the back of the next tent, in which he 'created' another door (using his sword) and led me through that tent until we came to a pathway from which we could travel further away from my tent without Ereinion being any the wiser (we hoped. Or at least that was the general idea).

            Sadly, I missed the rest of Thangail's stalling. If I had not been annoyed with Ereinion for his naughty thoughts and keeping me awake all night, I might have been more obliging towards my Elf-love and gone out to him instead; however, I was not in a charitable mood and though it meant being awakened hastily and in the midst of the first real deep sleep I'd had in the last 36 hours, I was quite content to go along with whatever scheme my guards had come up with to keep Ereinion's hot hands off me.

            I didn't know which way we were going, as I kept my head down and let Berialagor's grip on my arm guide me towards this new destination. Or maybe it wasn't a destination at all, just that we were leading Ereinion on a merry dance. Both satisfied my irritation with my husband-to-be, though the former would be much more welcome if I could just lie down and rest.

            Eventually we stopped and I risked a glance from beneath my hood. We were at a tent that had two guards at the door. The guard had looked about ready to say something in confusion to Rúmion but upon seeing me, he changed his mind and immediately opened the tent flap and ushered us in hastily.

            Berialagor and I waited in the antechamber of the tent whilst Rúmion moved the tentflap leading to the inner sanctum and spoke respectfully in Elvish.

            Círdan appeared from within, a smile on his ancient features. "Lady Anórmír."

            I inclined my head as gracefully as I could manage. Círdan held the 'door' open in a gesture for Berialagor and me to enter.

            Círdan gestured to the blankets on the floor- his own bed, I surmised as my sleep-deprived mind came to a foggy conclusion that this was Lord Círdan private tent. "You may sleep there, my Lady. I have been informed of the situation. Have no fear- you will not be interrupted again."

            "Thank you," I sighed in relief. I don't remember lying down, nor closing my eyes, but I know that weariness refused to leave me until I woke again the next morning.

            My first conscious realisation was that I could smell food. Hot food. It smelled _wonderful_. And was that a bath I could hearing being prepared? A shifting of papers- maps, I guessed as my mind became more awake.

            I opened my eyes, reluctantly at first, and blinked until my eyes cleared. I couldn't help smiling. I felt _so_ much better than yesterday.

            "Quietly, Sadoriel," Círdan said softly. "We do not want to awaken the maiden just yet."

            "Too late," Berialagor said from behind me. I glanced back at her with a smile which she returned. "I hope you are much improved, my Lady?"

            "Oh, most definitely," I said, pushing aside the blankets so that I could stand. Thankfully I still wore the cloak that kept my rather indecent nightie from view. Remembering my manners, I continued. "My Lord Círdan, I would like to thank you-"

            Círdan held up his hand to stop me. "It was done in the best interests of all, Lady Anórmír. Now I hope you will excuse me, I have several training sessions I must oversee, not to mention making sure the tents to which Rúmion so kindly added another entrance are fixed and face down an Elvenking whom I imagine is quite irate with me."

            "If Ereinion does start to get mad at you, tell him I said 'Fair's fair' and that he better play nicely from now on."

            Círdan laughed. "I shall pass on the message, my Lady. I know the High King is eager to have you at his side and I have never seen him so impatient about something before. I understand that he and Elrond have finished selecting your guards. Elrond will be by after your bath and breakfast to take you to meet them and see them perform. He also wanted me to pass on the message that he believes your sister is doing a lot better and might awaken sometime today."

            "Thank you," I smiled. Círdan smiled in return and left.

            "Bath or breakfast first, my Lady?" Berialagor enquired as Sadoriel put the large kettle aside.

            "Can't I have both at once?" I pleaded, discarding the cloak with an eagerness to lounge in that hot water. I didn't ask how the bath had come to be in Círdan's tent; as I have mentioned once before- in war, you don't question life's small luxuries.


	25. What Just Happened?

A/N: Well…I owe everyone a HUGE apology…I AM VERY, VERY SORRY THAT IT'S TAKEN THIS LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE. I won't give excuses…but I will say thank you to everyone who left the reviews even though we haven't been updating for a while…and an extra big thank you to those who read it in one sitting. You deserve cookies, all of you. In the mean time, though…here's Chapter Twenty-Five…finally.

"Stop bloody well doing that!"

Anyone walking past Glorfindel's tent must have been rather confused. Periodically (and getting more frequent) similar shouts would drift across the remaining camp of the Alliance, usually accompanied by Fiona's answering cackle of glee as she beat me – again – at chess.

"What?" Fiona asked innocently, as she once again achieved checkmate.

"Winning!"

She giggled. "You walked right into that one."

"I did nothing of the sort!"

I tend to get indignant and huffy when I don't win. I'm sure Fiona must think that I was whining, but I was most certainly _not_. I don't whine – and I don't pout either. I snarl and scowl. There's a large difference.

For a while, there was silence as we reset the board and started again. If they hadn't been Elves one could almost see the guards – redoubled since the escapade at the gates – looking at one another and rolling their eyes. Silence rained supreme. And yes, 'rained' was deliberate. You could practically hear it 'plink' as it dripped off the roof.

(You'll pardon me if I stop the story for a long giggle at my stupid mixed metaphor. Fiona just asked me what I was giggling at – she was obviously expecting something about Glorfy. I think I might have just surprised her. She's looking rather annoyed with me, but I suppose in a good way. Anyway…)

"Put my queen back on the board!"

"Why? I took it fair and square!"

"Because rooks can't move diagonally!"

"Shit." I knew that – I was just hoping she wouldn't notice.

The game we were playing was chess, of course, but we weren't playing with modern pieces. Glorfy had spent an entertaining twenty minutes attempting to explain to Fiona and I the rules and regulations of Elven chess. This lasted until he got fed up/called away to General something, and left. So Fiona and I designated the differently carved stone figurines chess pieces and have been playing for the past few hours.

Rather, Fiona has been playing. I have been loosing badly and repeatedly in between catching up on my journal. It's pretty much all I've been doing since I woke up two days ago. Not _all_ I've been doing, of course. A lot has happened since I woke up, as is always the case, and I have something to tell anyone who's reading this – and it may shock you.

I am now Mrs Glorfindel of the Golden Flower.

I know. It took me as somewhat of a surprise too, and I was there!

"Rhiannon? It's your turn."

I flicked a pawn into position without looking at the board. I probably shouldn't do that. Although, chess is a game of strategy – my strategy is to just move bits until I win. I don't have the head for straight logical thought. No doubt you've noticed this.

Anyway, back to the Mrs. Glorfy part.

When I woke up two days ago (well, the night before last, actually), it was brought to my attention that not only was Fiona going to marry Gil-galad in (from that point) four days, I was a small vow away from being married myself.

Perhaps you remember Elrond's rather bland description of the finer points of Elven behaviour? Well, I'd already done some…exploration…in that area that very day (erm…night), so I knew all about _that_, but…

It was Glorfy who'd dropped the bombshell on me the day after I'd woken up (yesterday), when he referred to me as 'my wife' in front of Elrond who'd come in to check on the bandages and sew up a couple of bits I'd torn when I'd flung myself at Fiona.

Naturally, this had me confused. My experience with weddings has always come from being either in them as a flower girl, or at them watching. But they've always had ceremonies and they've always had long winded speeches, and dresses and flowers and cake and rings and everything that basically _hasn't_ happened to me yet. If someone's going to be calling me "Mrs" anybody, I'd like to be there to find out to whom I'm going to be married.

Furthermore, I'd at least like to have a say in the matter! I don't recall even saying that I was going to marry anyone just yet, even if that anyone was my Golden Glorfy! And _now_ I find that a surrogate mother must speak the vows for me, and a surrogate father for him? And that they could even do it when I'm not there, just so long as Manwë and Varda and Eru and whoever happen to be called as witnesses witness?

This is bloody insane! I'm eighteen farkin' years old, for crying out loud! I should _not _be married!

Now, in all fairness to Glorfindel, I can see why he went ahead and made all the arrangements and so forth. He has, as you might have noticed, a highly developed sense of honour, and we_ did_ bond one another nearly completely…only nearly, because no one had said the vows for us.

Of course, I could always follow my mother's example…though she didn't get married at eighteen – she got married at twenty and had three children by twenty-six.

Children! Good Jebebus! I could end up with _children!_ In the middle of a _war!_ I know how the war's going to turn out, and who's going to win (unless our messing about has caused some serious plot changes…now there's a freaky thought for you!), but I also know that there's at least six more years of watching Elves and Men and horses and Orcs die, and horror, and all the sorts of things that I _really_ don't want to remember, but have seen way, way too much of already. There is no farkin' way that anyone could persuade me to bring children into this – Varda knows there's already too many young boys running about carrying messages, boys that remind me _so_ much of my little brothers…boys that are, at the most fourteen. What are these bloody idiots thinking?

Back when I was alive I sometimes went on rants about how stupid the age-restriction systems in Canada are. Someday I'll tell you about them, but for now, let's just say that as asinine as Canada's age-restrictions are, they're shit loads better than Gondor's.

I know this doesn't make much sense, in the context that I'm writing in. Canada, as I know it, doesn't even exist. I don't even know if we're in the same dimension as the Canada I know, or whether the land around here is going to change so much that it becomes the Canada that I know, or even Europe. And, on top of that, most people around here don't even know what a democracy is or means, and probably wouldn't like if we told them about it. After all…how can the majority be more right than the king?

The other day – You know what? I'm going to save this bit of rant for when I'm a little less emotional about it. Suffice it to say, children _do not belong in war_. When I'm better again, I'm going to have a long talk with Gilly and Elendil. The men might go pissy and blather on about honour and so forth, and it might not occur to them that putting children in armour and telling them to die is _wrong_, but I'm going to have words nonetheless. Hopefully before we get moved into Mordor.

In the mean time, I still haven't finished telling you about how I became Mrs. Glorfindel.

Yesterday afternoon, Berialagor slipped into the tent, gave Glorfindel and Elrond a pointed look, and then sat down by my side. It was only after Glorfy and Elrond left that I began to speak.

"I can't _believe_ what Glorfy just said!" I glowered. I was not in a happy state when Berialagor found me, and it was largely over that comment of Glorfindel's I mentioned earlier. "His wife indeed. We haven't even been married yet!"

Berialagor was silent a moment, studying me closely.

"And to be married to him is a bad thing?" she asked eventually.

"No, it's…I mean…" I clamped my mouth shut. This was working out to be an interesting afternoon. "I don't know. I'm only eighteen." That last really should have explained everything.

"I have been delegated to explain to you what it is you must know," she said slowly. "Why it is that Lord Glorfindel referred to you as such." She took a deep breath. "And, I must ask your consent on a matter very much important."

"Shoot," I said. She looked confused for a moment.

"Ah. You mean 'continue.'" I nodded. She continued. "You are getting married today."

I sat straight up, this time remembering to hold the blanket to my chest.

"What?" The question came out as a squeak.

"You are only half bonded," Berialagor continued. "The vows must be said in order to make the bond both legal and binding."

I stared at her and then slowly lay back down. "Bloody hell." So _that's _why Glorfy had referred to me as his wife! Because I damn near am. Well paint me purple and slap me silly! I wanted to apologize right then to Glorfy, but when I tried, I realized he was keeping his mental distance. Oh well…plenty of time for that later. "What do I need to know then?"

Berialagor smiled, and gave me a basic rundown of the upcoming ceremony and what it meant.

"I have one question," she began after she'd finished, and after a lengthy silence wherein I attempted to process what had just happened.

I nodded, and looked patiently at her. Or, at least, it might have been patiently. There was a numbness creeping up from my toes that had nothing to do with smelly medicine or battle wounds and everything to do with the need to grow up being suddenly dumped on my shoulders.

"I have already been granted the honour of acting as your sister's mother in her up coming marriage to the Lord High King," Berialagor began. The numbness reached my stomach as I realized what was coming next. "I would ask, if you would permit, that since you are sisters I act as your mother also." She stared anxiously at me.

I blinked up at her.

"This is all a ploy to get me to settle down, isn't it?" I asked, most certainly _not_ the right thing to say at that moment. Berialagor looked hurt, and then swallowed her obvious disappointment. She looked down and away from me.

I felt bad, through the numbness. I know that sentence doesn't make any sense, but tiddly boogles. That's what I felt.

"Sorry," I continued, grabbing the Elf-maiden's hand. "This is coming as a bit of a shock. I'd be honoured if you acted in the place of my mother."

Berialagor looked up and smiled prettily. Armour really didn't suit her as much as she'd likely want it to. "Thank you, my Lady."

"If you're going to be my mum," I said dryly, "calling me 'my Lady' probably isn't the best way to go about doing it."

"I believe you are correct, my La-" My eyebrows shot up. "Minaimîr," Berialagor finished, a faint blush about her cheeks.

Afterwards, Berialagor stood from my side and went to where my pack was propped up against Glorfindel's desk.

"Your sister mentioned that the Valar found it fit to give you an evening gown upon your crossing," she said. "May I please look for it in your bag?"

I nodded, though it wasn't until after she'd opened it that I remembered that, not only was there a great deal of chocolate in that bag, but a box of condoms also. I hoped that she wouldn't ask questions about them, like Glorfindel had done that day of the Chocolate Incident. I didn't, of course, protest the idea that the Valar and Valier had seen fit to give me a gown on my crossing. Berialagor could be dead wrong, but then, she could also be dead right. And until another explanation of how we got here presents itself, I'm willing to go along with that thought.

When she pulled out the dress and unfolded it, she tsked a little to herself and shook it out. I got my first look at it, and I must say, I wish I'd looked at it properly before, because…well, hot damn!

In the colours of twilight, that really deep blue that I absolutely adore, shimmering fabric made up the bodice and skirt. A netting of sparkling silver extended from the waist over the deep blues and purples, all the way to the hem of the skirt. The sleeves weren't so much sleeves, as translucent, silver straps, wide enough that they would cover most of my shoulder, and then splitting off to form draping trains that reached nearly to the hem too. And there was a built in cape! In a smoky colour of dark bluish purple, it attached to the neckline, dipped down way in the back to just below the shoulders, and trailed out behind the skirt in a flowing, waterfall-like train.

"Wow," I said when Berialagor had finished shaking the wrinkles out. I was somewhat surprised that in all the beatings that pack has taken, nothing in it was damaged. The Orcs that had captured us hadn't had the time to go through it, and the Men that had kidnapped us from our tent had only thought to bring it along to act as evidence of our running away.

Well, I suppose that aside from that, the packs hadn't been through that much. But still…they were hardy little things, and weren't torn at all. But they were rather dirty. At least, the outsides were…Anyway my point is that the dress wasn't damaged. And it was _beautiful. _Definitely what I'd call an 'Elf Dress'.

Berialagor helped me put it on, making sure that my recently re-fixed wounds weren't reopened again. The dress fit perfectly, which I was more-or-less expecting. If the Valar were the ones who'd given it to me, then I suppose having it not fit would have been silly. After I'd gotten the dress on and smoothed over my hips and so forth, Berialagor sat me down at Glorfindel's desk and went to work on my hair.

I don't know where she'd gotten the hair clips and pins and combs and generalized stuff from, but they were gorgeous. Silver and gold and some white metal, twisted and hammered and forged into knots and complex, flowing patterns held my hair back, dangled from my ears, circled my waist and arms, and…was that a crown of sorts that Berialagor just put on my head? After my hair was up out of the way, she produced vials of powders and other sorts of make up. I don't know where she got these from either, but I wasn't complaining. I wouldn't have thought that Elves needed make up of any sort, but I didn't complain about that either, when she held up a Glorfindel's small mirror so I could judge the effect. And I was rendered speechless. I must say – I looked _damn_ good! Glorfy had better like it.

"I am proud that I can act as mother to a bride as beautiful as you," she said into my dumbfounded silence. Which didn't help with the silence, but certainly brought tears to my eyes.

"So am I," I managed. I cringed because I sounded rather…egotistical, but then…I did look damn good.

"There is just one more thing for you to wear, but the Lord Glorfindel will give it to you. You must give him this." She held out her hand, palm up, offering me a thick, silver ring. "Put this on the first finger of his left hand."

"Okay," I said slowly, wondering what it meant.

"It is a sign that you are engaged," she explained. "Ordinarily, you would have worn this ring for a year and a day at least, but…times being as they are, it is understandable why you and Glorfindel have chosen to perform the ceremony now."

I didn't say, 'you mean, why Glorfindel decided to perform the ceremony now, right?' because that would have been rude. And, truthfully, if Glorfy and I hadn't done some…exploring…then I probably wouldn't be in this mess right now. So I really only have myself to blame for all of this. Damn my impatient hide!

When Berialagor had finished helping me prepare, she left. A moment or two later, Glorfy and Elrond came back in. I tried to smile at my Elf, but it didn't work quite like I'd wanted it to. My facial muscles just didn't want to comply, and I felt strangely distant from my surroundings. Even the pair of them bowing low to me and uttering the most flowery of speeches – or did only Elrond speak? Glorfindel, I think, was rather shocked. I don't remember him speaking, even in my mind.

But none of this really phased on me. As I put the ring on Glorfindel's finger, and he put a matching one – though smaller – on my left hand, I realized that I _really_ wanted to talk to Fiona before anything else happened. But she wasn't there and Berialagor had told me that she was now staying in Círdan's camp.

Elrond bowed apologetically to me when I asked him about this.

"Your sister accompanies the Lord High King in the processional," he said. "It would be out of place for her to enter the tent."

I only nodded, not having the energy to protest this. Elvish customs are convoluted and complex, no doubt owing to their unbelievably long observance.

"I would that your wounds did not mar the beauty you are, especially clothed such," Elrond continued. "But I fear that there is naught I can do to make such wounds invisible at this time. Be glad that they will not heal with scars, save for the deepest on your leg and shoulder."

I knew that the bandages looked something awful next to the richness and beauty of the dress, but there was nothing I could do about that, so I simply nodded. It was the most I could manage at that point anyway. I wasn't really listening that well. Why would it be out of place to talk to my sister before my own wedding?

"You are fit to walk, my Lady," he began again and then checked himself. "Or, rather, fit to be moved." I bit back a sarcastic comment about how this would have been good information to have _before_ Berialagor had gotten me up and dressed.

Glorfindel, with a strange look on his face, picked me up and took me outside.

At some point, while I was out cold, someone had given me a bath. I'm suspecting Glorfindel, though – really – I think it might have been Berialagor. She'd definitely be a better option than Elrond. Whatever – point is, I didn't smell bad (except for the lingering of Elrond's medicines) and the dirt and grime and dried blood was no longer covering every part of me. Which made me feel a lot better. There was no sign whatsoever of that skimpy bit of armour that I'd worn into battle, but I'm hoping that it will never be used again. Or copied. Or spoken about. Ever.

When I got outside, the world still held a wonderful newness about it, as though everything had been remade since I'd been out of commission. The sky overhead was a bright blue – rare this close to the Mountains of Shadow. Fluffy white clouds sprawled across the sky, drifting slowly in the wind. I inclined my head in greeting to Manwë and Ulmo (Ulmo of the waters, in alliance with Manwë to make the clouds and rain and mist…air and water working together…Told you I'd read some of _The Silmarillion_.) It was a silly action on my part, to nod in greeting to two supposedly fictional pseudo-gods of the Elves, but then, I was currently conscious in a supposedly fictional world of Elves, so I'm not going to jinx anything by _not_ acknowledging the apparent makers of Arda. Especially when they might just be responsible for getting Fiona and I into Middle-earth in the first place.

I thought, in the juxtaposed beauty of the day, I could hear birds – I could hear crows and ravens and other carrion eaters out on the Dagorlad, but those weren't the birds I was thinking of. On the edge of hearing, songbirds were chirping…

Fiona met us outside, accompanied by Berialagor, Gil-galad, Elrond and…Círdan? Is there any other Elf with completely silver hair? The other Elves bowed slightly, and Fiona came forward a little. I don't think she noticed the sharp look Círdan gave her. I would have given her a hug if I hadn't been in Glorfindel's arms.

"Hey," she said. "You ready for the big day?" She looked nervous, excited, sad, happy…I'm not entirely sure what other emotions there were, but there were several. She too had been made up, and stood in a simple, but gorgeous, dress of pale blue belted with golden flowers. Her red-gold curls were held back with jewelled combs and braids and more of the same twisted metal ornaments adorned her. I noted that someone had done her make up too.

"I'm a little dazed," I confessed. The enormity of the situation still hadn't – at that point – truly sunk into my mind. The numbness was still in the way. All Berialagor had said about the actual ceremony was that I had to hold Glorfindel's hand and listen to the words that were going to be spoken. Of course, she hadn't told me what those words were going to be, but I was suspecting that they'd be in Elvish.

"You look dazed," Fiona agreed. She swallowed hard and looked back at Gil-galad, who was smiling faintly at her, but still keeping up the kingly façade for the sake of anyone who'd walk by.

The camp was nearly deserted. A long column of Men and Elves and horses were steadily marching through the Black Gates. I guess forces had been sent ahead, to make sure that no Orcs ambushed them while they were on the march – that would only make sense. More Elves surrounded us, dismantling the tents and camp, readying provisions and supplies…moving into Mordor to stay. That thought chilled me somewhat.

_I would rather that this ceremony take place by the sea,_ Glorfindel said in my mind as we walked away from his tent, towards the command pavilion. He still carried me, though I barely noticed that we were moving. I found my eyes locked a head of me, staring at nothing. Not from pain, but…from a curious hollowness, a surreal sensation that was telling me that this was all a dream. It was only the throbbing of the wounds in my shoulder and my leg that kept me believing that none of this was, _ipso facto_, a dream and that I actually was on my way to get married.

"Can't help the scenery," I muttered aloud and Glorfy chuckled. I realized that my nervousness was not simply my own, but his as well and shared through our bond. Ah…so I'm not the only one who's going to be affected by this then… I looked back at Fiona, and realized that there were a few faces in the suddenly larger party that I hadn't recognized.

"Hey, Fiona!" I whispered, motioning her to come closer. She walked behind Glorfindel and I a little, and to the right. Berialagor walked next to her, which I suspect had something to do with family ties. Círdan was the same distance away, only to the left. And I think, if my brothers had been there, they would have been with him. "Who are those two twin hotties back there?"

Fiona giggled nervously, looking behind her. I didn't have to glance up at Glorfy to know that he was staring directly ahead with an expression completely devoid of emotion plastered all over his hot features. I wondered briefly if I was going to be 'punished' for this bit of teasing later.

"Those two," Fiona said, "are Túmagol and Túmegil, the latest additions to my personal guard."

"You mean you get more than just Berialagor? I would have thought our surrogate mum would be enough."

Glorfindel snorted. I ignored this, sensing an almost golden opportunity to have some fun coming up.

"I," Fiona said with mock imperiousness, "am to have a personal guard of eleven, as befits a Queen of Elves."

"_Eleven?_" I shrieked and I felt Glorfy cringe. "What the bloody hell are you going to do with _eleven _guards?"

"Not a whole lot," Fiona muttered. "Especially in the getting with child business. What's more, is after that, the number of my personal guard is going to double, or even triple, as befits a Queen of Elves with child."

I didn't catch most of what she said. I nodded and shrugged, and it wasn't until a few moments later that something Fiona had just said filtered through the odd detachment of my brain and did a dance on my vocal chords. My next shriek was louder than the last. "What do you mean, '_with child'_?

Fiona winced, glanced around and then motioned for me to keep my voice down. Glorfindel's studious expression was locked forward, although I could feel his amusement bubbling about under the surface.

"I'm not with child, you idiot!" she whispered hoarsely. "But everyone else," she gestured behind us to where Gilly, Elrond, Círdan, some Elf, the twins, Gildor, Isildur and some guy who looked a great deal like Isildur and Elendil were walking along in a stately manner. "Everyone else seems to treat me like…like…"

"A prized brood mare?" I asked, the first grin I'd noticed for a while actually coming to my lips.

"Yes!" she hissed. She looked up at Glorfindel, who still hadn't looked our way. I giggled a little, and Fiona and I were silent for a moment, giving me time to think.

Prized brood mare, eh? Well, I suppose that's what you get for falling for an Elf King. 'Lines of succession', and all that. Not that it really matters, in this case, but I can understand why it is the other Elves are so worried about it. Hmmm…would they do the same to me, because I was becoming the mistress of the House of the Golden Flower? Or since Gondolin had fallen in the War with Morgoth, was I in the clear?

My grin slipped suddenly – what was about to happen had finally sunk into my consciousness.

_Hold up, lovely_, I said in Glorfy's mind. _And put me down_.

_Minaimîr, now would not be the best time to –_

_I really need to talk to Fiona_, I insisted.

_But, melyanna, the –_

"Glorfindel," I said aloud, in the loudest, firmest voice I could muster, "if you do not put me down _right this instant_, I swear, I will throw a fit so large you'll have to drag me to the altar, or whatever bloody form of table you're going to be using!" I heard the stately steps of the Elves and Men following us falter and stop. Glorfindel stopped too, looking down at me confusedly. Círdan coughed politely and stepped forward.

"My Lady Minaimîr, this is most irregular," he began.

"Save it," I answered roughly. You wouldn't have thought I was speaking to someone who'd been around since the Elves woke up. "I have to talk to my twin. Glorfy, put me down."

"My Lady," Círdan began again, "the processional has begun and cannot be halted –"

"It's going to be," I said with a glare, "because I have to talk to my twin!"

"Perhaps such conversations should have been held befo – "

"Perhaps they would have been, you daft bugger, if you'd let my twin out of your bloody camp for more than two minutes at a time! Now, if I'm not mistaken, this is _my_ damn wedding, so you are going to _stop_ this processional _right now_, you crazy sot, or I'm going to get _pissed_!"

The look on Círdan's face was…priceless. There's no other word for it. It was a mask of shock and horror and nervousness, blended together with a sickly grin…argh…just call it 'priceless' and be done with it.

"'Hell hath no fury'," Fiona quoted in an undertone. She was looking back and forth between Círdan and myself nervously, quite obviously wondering just what the hell I was getting up to now, and whether or not Círdan was going to get offended.

There was a moment of pure silence, broken only by the snapping of canvass in the wind, and a few barely contained sniggers from a couple of soldiers who were supposed to be at work taking down the tents. And then Glorfindel put me down gently.

"Thank you, my darling," I said to Glorfindel, beaming at him with adoration. "I'll be right back." _Good boy,_ I added in the confines of our private communication network. He choked a bit, but was so stunned by my outburst that he didn't respond. "Fiona?" I grabbed Fiona's arm. Thankfully she let me lean heavily on her as I hobbled away a distance on my one good leg, one hand holding up my skirts.

"Holy hell," Fiona said after we'd gotten some distance and I'd borrowed a handy log from an all-to-eager-to-please Elvish soldier to sit on. He was a nice boy – even spread his cloak over top the log to save our dresses. Fiona sat down next to me. "Do you have any idea who you just yelled at?"

I glanced back towards the halted processional. The Elves and Men were milling about like confused sheep. That's not really a fair simile though – you can confuse sheep by bleating back at them. (I'm sure you could confuse an Elf quite sufficiently by bleating at one, but I won't get into that.)

"No," I said sarcastically. "Who was it?"

Fiona giggled. "That's Círdan the Shipwright," she said, though I knew full well who that silver-haired Elf was. "You just yelled at the Ship Builder, one of Ereinion's Generals, your fianc's surrogate father, and one of the oldest living things on this planet. And you called him a 'crazy sot'"

"I called him a 'daft bugger too'", I said with a grin. "Besides," I added with a shrug, "Tom Bombadil's older." I wondered how I'd gone from distant to involved to indifferent in so short a time.

"True," Fiona said with a matching shrug. "Although, it's never really been decided if Tom Bombadil or Treebeard was older."

"Whatever. Think we'll get to meet them? The Ents and Tom Bombadil, I mean."

"We've got eternity," Fiona answered.

We fell silent for a moment, watching the confused bunch of Elves and Men watch us watch them. Glorfindel stood some distance away from everyone else, though he looked instead towards the West, rather than towards everyone else. I gathered the impression from my fiancé that he was praying.

"You reckon I should go through with this?" I asked after a good long while. I could tell that the others were getting impatient. At least, the Men were. Isildur and the dude who looked a lot like him (Anárion?) were talking together and were practically bouncing from one foot to the other like children who couldn't wait one more second in the bathroom queue.

"Well," Fiona began slowly, "do you want to?"

"That's my problem," I answered. "I don't know. On the one hand, he's damn hot, he's mine, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with him." Fiona snorted. I knew she thought Gilly to be the hotter of the two, but her opinion on my Glorfy's hotness wasn't the issue. "And on the other hand…" I trailed off.

"I know," Fiona said. "We're eighteen. We shouldn't be getting married."

"Yeah. We should go exploring first. Check out Middle-earth, and hot Elves, and that sort of thing. Go see Lórien, and the forests, and all those places that are going to change big time."

"I wish it were that easy," Fiona said after a while. "And it might be, for you. But I've got to marry a king, and Círdan won't let me near Ereinion so long as we're 'unwed'. Did you know Ereinion's mother is still in Middle-earth?"

I raised an eyebrow. "No, I didn't."

"She is. Círdan sent away to her for a lady in waiting for me."

"Bloody hell! Does he _ever_ stop meddling?"

"I know. I feel like…"

"The rug's been pulled out from under your feet and you don't know if the furniture's still going stand?"

"Yeah."

I sighed and rested my head on her shoulder. "What are you going to do when this is all over?" I asked. I didn't ask, "what are you going to do when Gil-galad falls?" because we'd been carefully skirting that issue ever since we'd met him. But Fiona picked up on what I was asking anyway.

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I honestly don't know."

"Well, whatever it is," I said. "We'll do it together." She nodded. We watched Gilly and Círdan have somewhat of a heated argument, and then I looked back towards Glorfindel, my Golden Elf, where he stood in the sunlight looking more beautiful than I'd ever seen him. His armour had been polished to shine like mirrors. Under his armour, his clothes were finely cut and the greens of summer fields. His hair was braided back in some complex manner…but he looked remote, removed from everyone else, and not just because he stood apart. I could almost sense the physical barrier that held him at distance from the others, could almost see the slight sagging of his shoulders as he feared…

…that I would not go through with this wedding, that I would leave him alone to fade and pass while I gallivanted off about Middle-earth. That, even if I did marry him, I would be claimed by the war because of the belief that Fiona and I had been sent by the Valar. I reached a decision.

"Okay," I said, and felt tears forming behind my eyes. "Help me up."

Fiona stood and offered me her hand, which I grasped and used to haul myself up.

"Bloody hell!" she said, wincing. She waved her arm up and down. "Did you have to grab me so hard?" I stuck my tongue out, and tried to hold the tears back. We stood a moment in silence, looking out over the camp, towards the halted processional.

"I don't want my life to change," I whispered, looking up at my younger twin. There were tears in her blue eyes now.

"I know," she said. "But change is all we have to look forward to now. If we resist it, we'll fade."

I looked around again, and then back up at the sky. It seemed impossible that I could become so melancholy that the colour of the sky wouldn't hold it's beauty for me any more. The clouds drifted across, driven by the wind, and changed their shape. It was an Age before I took a deep breath.

"Let's go," I said. My throat felt thick as Fiona helped me back across the camp, to the halted processional, to my waiting fiancé, and to hers, and to the change that was inevitable.

I now understand why it is that the parents must say the vows, rather than those who are actually cementing their bond, or whatever it is you call it. My throat was so bloody thick, as I stood there next to Glorfy, with Fiona to my right, and Elrond to Glorfy's left, that I don't think I could have gotten two words out edgewise. Especially not over the constant stream of Elvish words and chants and general invocations of various members of the Ainur. But Glorfy kept up a constant translation as Gil-galad spoke, so it didn't all go over my head.

_Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today_ –

_You're bloody kidding me,_ I thought at Glorfy. _That's not what he actually said!_

Glorfy chucked in my mind. _I know. I found that phrase in your memories, when you thought of the past weddings you had attended. I thought that by mentioning it, I could relieve some of the tension you feel._

I smiled. _It worked, though only a little,_ I answered. _I'm still wound up tighter than a friggin' watch-spring. What's our illustrious High King actually saying? _I asked.

_He asks that Eru Ilúvatar come forth and witness our union_, Glorfy supplied.

_Ah_. It's Rhiannon's Astute Comment of the Week. I sniffled, and the sound struck me as incongruous in that setting. Sniffles aren't what one expects, in so sombre a moment that stern and/or regal faces were common on everyone's face. Except Fiona's (who was beaming, despite wetly shining eyes), Berialagor's (same expression), Glorfindel's (I know he looked all smooth, but he was scared shitless. His eyes were giving him away), and my self, who found the sudden sound of stopped sinuses amusing.

It made me want to giggle. I smothered the urge, of course, but you know how it is. Always, during an important or ceremonial event, when one is struck by the urge to laugh and smothers it, suddenly, everything becomes very, very funny and the ability to keep the giggles locked inside eventually goes out the window.

This is precisely why I started biting the inside of my lip hard, why Glorfindel's eyebrow suddenly rose as Círdan stepped forward to invoke the blessings and presence of Manwë Súlimo, and why I screwed my eyes shut as Círdan spoke, while at the same time holding my breath.

_Minaimîr, _Glorfindel warned. _This is hardly the time or place_.

_I know_, I answered helplessly as I tried to breathe and not chortle at the same time. _That's why I can't stop laughing!_ I didn't dare look at Fiona's face. One look from her, and I think I would have started laughing outright and wouldn't have managed to stop for anything. I'm half surprised she didn't nudge me with her elbow or something. But I'm rather glad she didn't. It wouldn't have helped at all.

I would have given anything to be allowed to giggle aloud, but you know Elves and their dignity. I forced myself to sober up as Berialagor stepped forward to invoke Varda Elbereth and her blessings. By the time Berialagor and Círdan put my hand in Glorfindel's and then loosely tied a length of white ribbon around our wrists, I was nearly calm again.

Truthfully, though, I think my reaction to the sniffle was more of a diversion my mind cooked up to keep me from weeping uncontrollably for joy and sorrow and bittersweet moments, and for the fact that none of my family where here to witness what was happening. Then again, maybe I'm just the sort who'd start sniggering at her own wedding because of a sniffle. Whatever. Point is, I wished my mum and dad and siblings could be here too, and – though I'd buried it – it hurt a lot that they couldn't be.

Oh, I know I had that dream, while Glorfy carried me back from the clutches of Orcs, but…as nice as it would be for the PTB's to let my family members attend my wedding in their sleep, somehow, that just seems like too much sap for the real world to allow.

I know you'd all love more sap (who doesn't?), but I need to get back to the story.

_I would that your family could join us also,_ Glorfindel murmured in my mind. _I would dearly like to meet them, though I fear your memories will have to suffice_.

How sweet! I pushed tears back behind my eyes as I accepted a simple gold ring from Berialagor. I held it in my hand, and resisted the urge to stare at it as though it was the instrument of the change in my life, rather than this whole ceremony and giving in to carnal delight in the first place – and pushing things ahead by pulling that stupid stunt with the Gates. Instead, I just looked up at the blonde god of my existence and was struck suddenly by how utterly strange the sight of us together must be to anyone else. Barring the children in the camp, I have to be the shortest person here. I barely top five feet, and it's a wonder that Glorfy doesn't make comments about how I'm a Dwarf or something, because he is a skillianth of a willimeter under seven feet. I'm just about level with his elbow. Now picture that from behind, and I won't blame you if you giggle.

Even so, after I spent a moment or two wondering whether or not the other Elves thought I was still to be considered an 'Elfling', I just had to wonder what my dad's reaction to all this would be, and my face split into a wide grin.

_Dad would go berserk,_ I said.

_I assure you, my Lady,_ Glorfindel replied stiffly as he accepted a smaller golden ring from Círdan, _that I would behave honourably towards your father, for I would wish his blessing on our union._

And I assure you, my Lord, that my father would throw every single test and method of interrogation in the book your way, put you through the ringer – both mentally and physically – and generally make your life a living hell until he was quite sure that you deserved me. I added that last quite smugly.

Glorfindel smiled himself, the first real expression to make it through the dignity of the situation.

_Well then, melyanna,_ he said as he slipped the golden ring he held onto the index finger of my right hand, _unto the end of my days would these tests and tasks be asked of me, for I shall never deserve you_.

I damn near dropped the ring meant for him. It took me a moment to rally, but rally I did.

_Flattery will get you everywhere,_ I told him. A throbbing that I'd been ignoring steadily since the whole ceremony had begun reminded me of my wounds. _Just as soon as I'm well again_, I added, bringing the ring closer to Glorfy's fine boned hands. But then I stopped, hesitating just one last time. I looked behind me, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, to where Fiona stood next to Berialagor. I offered her the briefest (and most bittersweet) of smiles, which she returned with a sniffle.

Laughing out loud, I put the ring on Glorfindel's finger.

So yeah. That's how I became Mrs. Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, even though Gondolin no longer exists and the mountains it was concealed in are now buried under the sea.

I've lost track of how many games Fiona and I have played now, though I recall only winning (by pure luck) approximately five. I've been distracted, I guess…and no small wonder. That gold ring on my finger is quite distracting. And so, of course, is my new husband.

In my current state, our honeymoon wasn't much. But my dear Glorfindel does have some interesting red welts on the side of his neck that the regimented hairstyle (braided back, that is) won't allow him to hide. I believe even Elrond laughed at him this morning, when he showed up at the command pavilion to assist in the tail end of the tournament and the moving of the camp. I could feel his blush all the way across the camp.

But I can't laugh. I've had my hair down all day to hide the matching ones he left on _my_ neck. Which Fiona had the good grace not to comment on, and I've been pretending they're welts from the Orc collar. Really though, I'm suspecting she's guessed the reason for them and just isn't saying anything.

Or, and this thought just occurred to me now, she's preoccupied with her own upcoming wedding to Gil-galad and she hasn't even seen them, recognized them for what they are, and/or had the will to comment on them even if she did see them…am I confusing anyone?

Fiona's getting married tomorrow. Despite having gone through a wedding myself – and being the bride in that wedding too – this fact still scares me. Not because I'm afraid Fiona won't be happy; I know she will be. Even though we have spent so short an amount of time amongst the Elves, I know very well that Gilly loves my twin with all the fibres of his soul, even if he cannot show it because of his duties. What I am scared of _is_ Gilly's duties and the fact that she will have duties herself as Queen, and they're not always going to be either pleasant or wanted.

For instance, from what I've heard of gossip around the camp (mostly from Glorfy and Fiona), my twin is _required_ to become pregnant at the first available opportunity. This to ensure a royal succession.

This is making me wonder, though I will not say these thoughts aloud to Fiona. I don't keep secrets from my twin, but I don't want her happiness with Ereinion (Gilly, I know you're the king, but once you become family, either by marriage or whatever, I get to use your right name. That's just how it works.) to be diminished because of a certain fate. Whatever. What I am wondering is this:

Is there time enough left before the end of the war for Ereinion to _get_ Fiona with child? And since the Elves did not have a king after Gilly because Elrond refused the crown (and they wouldn't have a new king anyway), doesn't that therefore mean that Gilly never _had _any children? At least, none that were recognized, anyway?

These are dark thoughts, ones that I'd rather not have. Because I am afraid for my twin – she loves her fiancé as much as he loves her, if not more, and I am dreading the day when they finally destroy Sauron, because that's the day that Gilly falls.

Enough of this, though. Fiona is happy now and untroubled with these thoughts, and I don't want her to think that I'm depressed and try to get the reason out of me. Because, as I said, I don't keep secrets from her, and while she is a capable woman, I'm protective of my siblings and I want to make sure that she doesn't have to worry about this. I probably should say something, but…how can I, when she is worried enough as it is over her wedding tomorrow?

Her wedding, of course, is going to be a huge deal. Mine was pretty big – one of Ereinion's generals getting married is a big deal, at least amongst the brass knobs at the top, and there were a lot of people waiting in the command pavilion that I hadn't even paid much attention to until afterwards. But while mine was a big job, hers is going to be HUGE. True, it's going to take place in front of the gates, but instead of just a few of the top officials mingling after a short (it felt like forever) ceremony in the command pavilion, the _entire friggin' army_ is going to be at Fiona's. Plus whatever nobles and such that could make it in the week that the wedding was announced. Fiona is going to be the focus of attention of every Elf, Man, Woman and child there. And I get to stand next to her while she's doing it.

And, of course, she won't be able to pull anything like my stunt and halt her own processional. Hers is a wedding that must go _exactly_ by the book, and I feel bad. I can goof off, to an extent, but Fiona is under a lot of pressure to be the perfect Queen of a culture she's only been a part of for about a month, maybe more.

So that's part of the reason that we're sitting around in my new tent while my husband (I'm still getting used to that) is off general-ing things. One, to keep her away from Ereinion – though, to be truthful, if he came looking for her here I wouldn't stop him – and two, because it takes a load off her shoulders. Plus, I want to sit with my sister for a while before she gets tied up too much in her Queenly duties. Not that I won't be with her then, but…well, I think you know what I mean.

Really though, I can't see her having too many 'Queenly duties' until the war's over, and, truthfully, I don't know when that's going to be. All I know about this war was that it lasted seven years, Sauron bites the dust and Isildur ends up acting like an ass and thinking that memory is contained in objects. I don't know how many of the seven years it took them to actually get into Mordor, or on what day that the war ended, but I did know that I was _not_ looking forward to spending that much time in Mordor. I said as much to Fiona.

"Really though – what else have we got to look forward to?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Travelling, children, living in Rivendell, or Lórien…or Lindon! I'd love to go there."

"Yeah, me too," I said. So far, all we'd seen of Middle-earth consisted of the camp, the Dagorlad, several miles of swamp and a few trees. I grinned. "Who knows? Maybe one day there will be an Elf orgy of Oiliphantic proportions."

I don't really need to say that I couldn't really dodge the pillow that was chucked my way, but I was laughing over her indignant "Rhiannon!" anyway so I didn't really notice that it hurt my shoulder where I still had the bandage. I only stopped when I fell over and my left leg screamed.

"Ow," I said between laughs. "Owwy ow ow ow!"

"Serves you right," Fiona said between her own giggles. "You're a married woman!"

"Doesn't mean I can't fantasize," I returned, gasping for air.

_Minaimîr!_ Glorfy's shocked voice flooded my mind. Well, I guess he didn't appreciate the image I'd just send him, one conjured up entirely in my mind, of…well, an Elf orgy of Oiliphantic proportions.

_Yes?_ I answered, attempting to exude innocence telepathically across the camp.

He didn't reply, but I could sense his shock. Not outrage, or anger or anything like that, but shock. As though he really didn't expect _me_ of all people, to have an image such as that in my mind.

Then again, maybe he couldn't answer because I had (as a joke. I swear) pictured Círdan running about in a dress with flowers braided in his long silver hair. That might have scared him more than just a little.

_Hee hee hee_, I said, and echoed myself aloud.

He didn't answer, and I figured that I was going to have to have a talk with him. I squashed the sudden fear that we might have rushed things just a little too much – getting married after a few weeks? Had we gotten caught up in the emotions and so forth concurrent with large battles? Eternity is a very long time, after all…

Then again…even surrounded by spectacularly gorgeous Elves twenty four seven, I can't picture myself with anyone but Glorfindel. Not a single Elf,

Good lord…I'm a sap. And a tired sap too. I think I'm going to take a nap, since Fiona's beaten me at chess _again_ and has run out to see about a spot of supper. So…yes, I shall leave it here for a bit, and hopefully I'll get back to this when my shoulder isn't screaming and my head isn't pounding and there isn't a lingering smell of pounded herbs and grease.

A/N: Sorry to leave it like that…but I figured that 13 pages was long enough…and you readers have been patiently demanding more for some months now, so I thought it best to get this posted. Hope you've enjoyed…and I'm terribly sorry again for having not posted for so long…still friends?


	26. Pre Royal Wedding Nervous Wreck

Author's Note: My apologies that this chapter has taken so long to be posted. In truth I started writing it before the last chapter was posted, but my co-author and I had some disagreements about where the story goes after here and then I had writer's block and then university to deal with.

Be warned, this chapter contains implied nudity (nothing graphic at all) so it deserves the 'R' rating. It also contains some other implied (ONLY implied) suggestions of a naughty nature. I apologise if Anórmír seems rather absorbed with her husband (and certain ahem activities…..again though, nothing graphic!) but in this chapter, Ereinion is very important to her and it's a rather big step in Anórmír's life, don't you agree?

Ok…let's recap a few of the major events that have happened since I last wrote in my 'journal'. Rhiannon woke up, got married to Glorfindel, and has almost recovered from her wounds. My guard of eleven is decided (though thankfully I'll only have to put up with five until my wedding day). I haven't seen Ereinion very much since…well, if you count the day we saw each other at my sister's wedding…since the fourth day after our victorious battle. I think after that Círdan has been keeping him completely occupied with war stuff. I heard from Elrond that every time my beloved has a spare moment Círdan takes him out onto the practice field and fills up the space until he can think of something better for Ereinion to do.

The good part of this is that Ereinion hasn't even had time to search for me with his mind and as a result, I've had several decent nights of sleep. Bad news is, I've had basically nothing to do in the meantime. Keeping my sister company is the extent of what I get to do until my nuptials, which I should perhaps mention are drawing closer and closer...

Let's be honest- MY WEDDING IS **TOMORROW**!

And right now (and at every other moment that I haven't got something to take my mind off it) I'm in a panicked state. 'Pre-wedding jitters' doesn't cover it; pre-royal-wedding-nervous-wreck is slightly more accurate.

Obviously, I looked like I was about to faint because Sadoriel left the tent and brought me back a cup of tea with something that's put me in a rather strange sort of mood…quite mellow, almost…

Berialagor enlisted Glorfindel and Rhiannon's help keep my mind off my upcoming wedding, so now I'm sitting in Glorfindel's tent playing chess with my Elvish sister, who is periodically trying to cheat when she thinks I'm not paying attention. Despite that, we've played about fifty games or so, and I've only lost about five, so I suppose it doesn't really matter whether she cheats or not.

Hold on…50 games…and we started this just after lunch…

DAMN! Almost dinner time! One meal closer to the inevitable…

I sound like I'm going to my doom, don't I? That wasn't what I meant to sound like – I mean, I am _really_ excited to be getting married! It's just…well…I don't know…it's all so rushed and it's also the implications that, by the end of tomorrow night, I will not only be married but the 'official' High Queen of the Elves. I think that might be what's frightening me the most. I'm going to be a _Queen_ of a people of which I have only been a member of their species for…what, three weeks now? Maybe a month? Do you have any idea how-how- how _SCARY_ that is?

Sadoriel has just arrived with dinner. Looks half decent too; baked potatoes, boiled cauliflower, an unidentifiable piece of meat…

"I apologise for such scant rations, but what food is left in the camp is being prepared for tomorrow evening," Sadoriel said in her soft voice. I envy her. My own voice is harsh and often slightly boyish. I'm no Lady. I wonder whether Ereinion will expect me to learn to speak like that; to speak softly with an inhumane patience. Ugh. I almost want to shudder at the thought of learning patience.

"No problems," I replied, accepting the plate and cutlery. "I don't think I've got much of an appetite right now anyway." Good thing too, since I just saw my sister Rhiannon try a mouthful of meat with mixed expressions of disgust and polite interest cross her face.

Sadoriel began brushing my hair as I picked at the dull food on the plate before me. I don't know where she got the brush from; Sadoriel seems to be able to make things magically appear just when she needs them. I can see Rhiannon's brush sitting on her bag. Maybe its Glorfindel's…but I doubt it.

I closed my eyes, letting the effect of the calming tea and Sadoriel's brushing wash over me. It was almost like meditation, except I've never actually managed to meditate…I have a tendency to fidget. But that…that was a state of pure calm, no thoughts, no worries…

I opened my eyes in time to see Rhiannon switching several of the pieces on the chessboard and quietly removing a few others.

I snorted. Sheepishly, Rhiannon looks at me. "If it means so much to you…" I said, lifting my arm to knock over my king. "There."

Rhiannon wrinkled her nose. "But that takes all the fun out of it."

That's my sister's logic for you.

I awoke the morning of my wedding with the feeling that my stomach was practising cartwheels without the rest of my body joining in. My head was rather light as well. To say nothing of the nightmares I'd been having all night about sleeping late and missing my own wedding…alright, the ceremony wasn't being held until late that afternoon, but it seemed all at once too close.

I will confess to having some doubts (you might have noticed already). As I picked at the food on the plate that Sadoriel was forcing me to eat, I made a mental list of all the things that were going to change. For a start, I would no longer be a 'nobody in particular' but 'High Queen of the Elves in Middle Earth'. That was the major leap that frightened me most I think. Because it meant that I would have to think before I spoke (something I'm not very good at), I would be expected to act in a manner befitting a proper Queen, I probably wouldn't ever be allowed to fight again, and I would have official duties to fulfil. And as we'd already established, one of those duties would include getting pregnant pretty soon after our marriage.

There was a nagging voice in the back of my mind that pointed out that Tolkien had never recorded any of these events. I mean, I never remembered reading anything about the Battle of Dagorlad being won thanks to the help of two scantily clad Elf-maidens. Nor is there any mention of Ereinion (and Glorfindel, of course, but my husband most importantly) getting married before the Gates of Mordor. There was never any child of Ereinion's mentioned in Tolkien's books either. I was terrified by the possibility that not only would I eventually lose my husband to this war, but I would remain childless as well.

Ok, ok…so I'm not overly keen to have a baby just yet…but I do hope for children someday, you know? And this war is only going to go on for another seven years before it inevitably ends, and with it taking Ereinion to Mandos…

Let's change the subject. Morbid thoughts are not what I need on the morning of my wedding day.

"Why couldn't we just elope?" I asked Sadoriel plaintively as she helped me bathe in the rose-petal water of the tub. I had decided not to argue with my lady-in-waiting over the fact I am capable of bathing myself.

Sadoriel just smiled, passing my question off as nerves. Which it was, but still I wanted somebody to give me a damned good reason why so many people had to attend! I was terrified of doing something to embarrass myself or my betrothed.

"The High King is a very important person to the Elves," Sadoriel explained in simple words. "And as his beloved and betrothed, you are an important person to the Elves as well. It simply wasn't possible for this to be any less extensive than it is. Were it not for the war, your wedding would be far more impressive and there would be a greater number of people invited from lands reaching from Arnor to Greenwood to Gondor."

Ignoring the idea of an even bigger wedding that Sadoriel mentioned, I retorted simply, "So the reason it has to be such a big deal is because everyone wants to make sure that it _does_ actually happen and the elusive bachelor doesn't run off?"

Sadoriel and Berialagor (who was always present of course; at this point she was polishing her armour) chuckled. "Something like that," Berialagor admitted.

That issue settled (though not to my liking), I sat forward in the bath so that Sadoriel could wash my hair.

My thoughts strayed again, but this time it seemed more like a waking dream than conscious thinking. I saw a little Elven boy with dark hair, blue eyes and a face that was so like Ereinion's. The boy was running towards me on steady little legs, a beaming smile on his face and his arms flung out wide. Then I blinked and the dream was gone. I was back in the bathtub having my hair washed.

I blinked, stunned by the strange revelation. Had I just seen a glimpse of the future? Could that boy be mine and Ereinion's son? Or was it the past? Had it been Ereinion himself?

There was no more chance to ponder the question because at that moment, Sadoriel poured a jug of warm water over my head.

Anárion's wife, Finduilas, arrived just as Sadoriel was putting my dress on me. Finduilas was a beautiful red-haired woman and quite blunt in her speech, which I found strangely refreshing. As virtually the only noblewoman within a distance that could be travelled in the short time since my wedding to Ereinion was announced, Finduilas had a certain amount of standing in the ceremony herself. I was grateful for the company of a married woman. Neither Sadoriel or Berialagor were married so they could only tell me as much as they had seen at other ceremonies that they had attended, none of which were of high ranking lords or ladies. Finduilas's tales about her own wedding were helpful, although I was somewhat mortified when she insisted on telling me that I needn't worry about what would happen after the wedding ceremony.

"Your husband will take you into hand and guide you in what needs to be done," Finduilas assured me, unaware that I was blushing furiously. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Berialagor was blushing slightly as well, though Sadoriel seemed to be amused by it.

Rhiannon, who was standing strangely quiet near the door, was certainly grinning for all she was worth. I didn't need words to know what she was saying in that look. 'Fe, trust me; with all that smut you read, you'll be the one doing the guiding.' I wish I could have said something to stop that look, but I didn't want to give myself away in front of everyone else.

"Don't be embarrassed by it either," Finduilas advised. Damn, obviously she just noticed that my cheeks were the colour of a beetroot. With a naughty little grin, she added, "You might find that you like it."

I was on the verge of asking her not to say anything else when Sadoriel led me to the seat and had me sit down so that she could brush my hair and put the sheer veil in place with strategically placed combs. The veil didn't fall over my face, since the ceremony traditionally began with a feast. The wedding would also be my coronation as High Queen of the Elves (eep!), so later the combs and veil would be removed to make way for a circlet of some sort.

Sadoriel wordlessly began to apply a light covering of make up. I was getting more and more nervous by the minute. I wish that Finduilas had a tale to take my mind off my imminent nuptials, but she seemed so excited by it all that she couldn't talk about anything else.

As Sadoriel finished, I thanked her, hoping I didn't look as ill as I felt. If only my stomach would settle! How on earth was I going to eat when I was already feeling like I was going to chuck?

"Calm down," Berialagor said gently, laying a hand lightly on my shoulder. "You look positively terrified."

With a deep breath to dispel the onset of tears, I confessed in a small voice, "What if I mess something up?"

This was immediately refuted by four different replies. Rhiannon's was "Didn't bother me at mine!", while Sadoriel took my hands in hers and said kindly, "Do not dwell on what could go wrong. Think of the wonderful things that make this _right_."

"The King will help you through it," Berialagor put in.

"No 'what ifs'," Finduilas said firmly.

Their sudden reactions were so funny, I couldn't help laughing. The four of them exchanged looks and began laughing as well.

"My Ladies?" Túmagol or Túmegil's voice drifted into the tent through a small part of the flap that had been pushed in so that they could hear but not see.

We turned to look at the door. Berialagor, dressed in her gleaming armour (which I thought was a bit strange, considering she's playing the part of my mother), opened the flap so that she could see them and they her.

"Is something wrong, Túmegil?" Berialagor asked.

"King Elendil of Arnor and Gondor awaits," Túmegil informed us.

I almost wished I was the fainting type of woman, because I certainly felt my heart skip a jolt. Elendil, it had been decided, would play the part of my father in the wedding. It was a token part, but one that Elendil readily agreed to. Elendil's arrival was an indication that the groom's party was ready.

Everyone turned back to me, and I stood. I was trembling with nerves, but thankfully it didn't show. Berialagor stepped outside and held the tent flap open so that I could pass through without touching it.

The dark clouds that had covered the battlefield before our victory had withdrawn behind the gates of Mordor, so I could see the sky clearly. The sun was setting in the west, casting a deep golden light across the sky.

Elendil's armour had been polished until it shone silver. He waited patiently, a small smile gracing his face. "Lady Anórmír," he greeted, holding out a hand to me.

I put my hand in his and smiled shyly, "My Lord Elendil," I replied courteously. Unable to resist, I impishly added, "Father."

Elendil chuckled, giving my hand a kiss before turning and slowly leading me away from the tent, Berialagor on my other side. Though I didn't think it at the time, I suspect the Elvish cloth has something that makes it repel dirt. Despite the masses of dirt on the battlefield, my pristine white dress remained pure white the whole time.

I haven't mentioned my dress before now, have I? How could I have made such a huge oversight? Well! It's very hard to described, but the sleeves are long and flowing in a natural kind of way, made of a soft semi-transparent white material that has an almost unnoticeable pretty floral pattern on it, but it's not embroidered, so I don't know how they did it, or how to describe it. The main part of the dress itself had a neckline that enhanced my femininity (didn't know I still had any until I put that dress on!) and the white velvety fabric lingered around the curves of my torso before falling in graceful waves to the ground. It too had an intricate pattern of some sort of it, but now's not the time for me to try and guess what it might have represented.

Incidentally, before I continue writing was happened, I should probably mention that I was in fact wearing a pair of white silken slippers. Again, they were exquisitely patterned. Had it not been a battlefield upon which I walked, but grass, I would have been barefoot. However, the circumstances were far from ideal and I was thrilled all the same.

On with the story!

Elendil led me across the sparsely tented camp to where Ereinion and his side of the party were waiting. He did not have a female Elf to stand in for his mother, but Elrond, his next closest kin, stood where his mother should have been. Círdan, of course, was playing the part of Ereinion's father. There were quite a number of others in Ereinion party, but aside from Glorfindel and Gildor, I didn't really recognise anyone else.

Just in case you were wondering, my own party was made up of Elendil and his family (since he was standing in for my father. His family was mostly just Isildur, Anárion, Finduilas, Isildur's sons and Anárion's sons), Berialagor, Minaimîr and my recently appointed guards.

There was also a number of Elves standing to either side of an unofficial path that led to the large open tent where the feast was to be held. They were singing a song in Elvish. It was a beautiful hymn of sorts. I didn't recognise any of the Elves though.

I allowed myself a breath of relief that I had at least managed to make it to this point without stuffing anything up. I was unable to keep my smile from growing as I took Ereinion's offered arm and we began to walk slowly down the path between the singing Elves. I smiled shyly at the Elves, glancing up at Ereinion from time to time. He often met my gaze, his own eyes and mind reassuring me that all was well.

I confess, I do not recall much about what we ate. I know it was delicious, because I actually managed to finish half the plate before my nerves took hold and I couldn't eat anymore because of lingering nausea.

I was introduced to a lot of nobles, both human and Elf alike. I hoped that I would not be expected to remember all their names. I was half tempted to apologise then and there if I should forget their names later, but Ereinion telepathically advised me not to.

_You will find, my Anórmír, that your memory is not so poor as you believe it to be,_ he assured me as he casually conversed with one of Elendil's commanders. _And even if it should prove to be so, in most circumstances I will be with you or at least very nearby, so you can ask for me to clarify._

That was hardly reassuring, but I put aside that thought for now.

I was somewhat surprised to meet the new King of Greenwood the Great, Thranduil, who had only been Prince up until a few weeks ago. Thranduil eyed me with interest, but it was clear that although he was civil, that he did not particularly like Ereinion for some reason. I supposed it was that ancient argument between the Noldor and the Sindar, which most had put to rest eons ago.

"And how do you like the fuss of a royal wedding?" Thranduil asked me, gesturing around him where dozens of Elves and Men were conversing in a variety of languages.

I gave a small shy smile. "When I asked why we couldn't just elope, I was told that it would be rude to deny everyone the chance to see such a notorious bachelor fall."

Ereinion choked on his drink, but Thranduil burst out laughing. I ducked my head, cursing my impertinence. Thranduil didn't seem to mind in the slightest. "She'll make you a good wife, my Lord Gil-galad," Thranduil patted Ereinion's shoulder. "You should be fortunate to have found her first. I would have quite happily stolen her from you, had you not."

Ereinion put his arm around my waist protectively. "As I have been told on several occasions, my Lord Thranduil," he replied. He looked down at me, and I knew that the pink blush of sheepishness had not yet left my cheeks. As Thranduil left us, after a raise of his glass, Ereinion did not seem angry or annoyed by what I had said. In fact, he was thoughtful.

_What is it?_ I asked after a moment, my curiosity getting the better of me.

_That comment may have single-handed built a trust between Lindon and Greenwood that three eons of diplomacy could not achieve,_ Ereinion smiled at me, taking a sip from his goblet again.

_So long as Minaimîr stays off the booze, we're fine,_ I added, taking a sip from my own goblet. Though we were allowed a drink of wine during the meal, afterwards Ereinion and I were only served grape juice. Everyone else continued to drink wine, but not us. Ereinion gave a vague explanation that as the couple being married we weren't allowed even a chance to get drunk, pinning the reason to the fact that we had to be sober for our ceremony so that we wouldn't stuff it up, but I suspect he wasn't entirely being truthful. Just by the hint of embarrassment that flushed on his cheeks, and some logical thinking on my part, I was about 95 certain that wasn't the only reason. I mean, think of this way – if it really was only so that Ereinion and I didn't stuff up our ceremony, then why were Círdan, Elendil and Berialagor still allowed to drink wine? They're the ones who are going to do the actual speaking, not me and Ereinion. All he and I have to worry about is exchanging rings.

_Nevermind, Anórmír,_ Ereinion said firmly in my mind, confirming my suspicions. Though a small smile at the corner of his lips told me he was pleased I had figured it out on my own.

A raucous bout of giggling from the other end of the pavilion ended all hopes of my twin not getting entirely smashed. She was sitting on the edge of a table with a wine goblet in one hand and a tankard in the other, conducting rowdy drinking songs with a dishevelled choir of several tipsy Men (I recognised Isildur's sons Elendur, Aratan and Ciryon amongst them), her legs swinging back and forth like a child. She seemed to be teaching a very merry and drunken Glorfindel how to sing the songs as well.

Ereinion and I looked back at each other with raised eyebrows, neither of us able to conceal a smile of tolerant exasperation.

At that moment, Elendil came up to us. Several groups of conversation quietened down to watch the exchange.

I almost panicked. Was it time already?

Elendil inclined his head. Ereinion and I returned the gesture. "My Lord, my Lady, if you will forgive my intrusion. It is a tradition of Men that the bride and her father share a dance…however, I understand that Elves do not dance until after the bride and groom have retired for the night." That was news to me. One might even consider it good news. Even Elendil seemed to flush a little in saying it, but he was smiling all the same. "I have no daughter of my own, and I have been honoured with this chance to be called on to stand in for the father of your betrothed to give her away to you. Might I ask that I be allowed to dance with my adopted daughter?"

"But of course, my Lord," Ereinion agreed as he took my goblet.

As I found myself in a dancing pose with Elendil, I almost wished that it had been the ceremony. Though I had enjoyed the folk dancing that my primary school P.E. teacher had taught us, it had been a long time since then and I didn't know any steps to any of the dances that a Lord of Men might know.

Somewhere a band of string instruments started up and Elendil lead me around in a waltz. I'm glad it was a waltz and I was dancing with a guy who knows how to lead; there was nothing more embarrassing than waltzing with the boys at my primary school who couldn't lead. Elendil and I smiled, conversing easily. I began to understand why he had been so eager to play the part of my father. After Isildur was born, he had secretly hoped for little girl that he could spoil, but his wife had died giving birth to Anárion, and he could not bring himself to marry again, not even for the want of a daughter. He was very proud of both his sons and their achievements, but he was enjoying having me as a daughter for a day. He also whispered in my ear that I should not be worried about the dancing. Apparently he had noticed the flicker of apprehension in my eyes.

After Elendil, I found myself passed on to Isildur, who was a lot more cheerful than I had ever seen him before. I suspect a large quantity of ale might have had something to with his mood. Then I danced next with Anárion, who informed me that Finduilas had told him what she had said to me and we had a good laugh about it. Thankfully, I was saved having to dance with Elendil's grandsons, because it was finally time for the wedding ceremony.

The wedding party moved out from underneath the feasting tent to a short distance even further away from the Black Gates of Mordor. Ereinion and I led the procession, both of walking gracefully to the designated spot (since I didn't know anything about this beforehand, Ereinion must have either decided at that moment or he'd discussed it with Círdan earlier). I somehow managed to hold my head high, glancing only a few times at Ereinion to smile at him and, I hope, betraying none of the anxiousness that I was feeling inside.

Once in place, he and I stood facing each other holding hands for mutual reassurance and support, as our guests slowly and ceremoniously gathered around us. When the last of them had stopped moving, Elrond stepped forth on my left side to where our hands were joined.

"Let Ilúvatar see this _ner_-" It was all said in Elvish of course, but I couldn't quote it accurately to you. Incidentally, 'ner' is like the Elvish equivalent to saying 'male Elf'. "-and this nís-" which means, of course, 'female Elf' "-as they come together this day to make their lives as one. May He bless their union."

Next, Círdan took a step forward to stand next to Ereinion's right hand shoulder. "I call upon Manwë Súlimo to witness the union of Ereinion Gil-galad son of Fingon and Anórmír daughter of Elendil."

It had been decided that as so little was known about my parentage that on this day no mention would be made that I was adopted by Elendil and Berialagor, and that we would simply pretend that I really was their child (cough, snort, giggle).

Círdan continued on. "Manwë, we ask that you bless this couple with peace and prosperity for all eternity."

snort A funny and ironic thing for us to be blessed with when we're standing on what was only a week ago a battlefield of death and destruction. Still, it'd be nice if it comes true!

On my right hand side, Berialagor stepped forward. "I call upon Varda Elbereth to witness the union of Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Elves in Middle Earth, and Anórmír, Lady of Arnor and Gondor."

I can only imagine the speculation that must have been going through people's minds at this point; a virtually unknown Elf-maiden of unknown parentage and status was marrying the High King of Elves. I've got to admit, I was a little nervous about hearing it myself. However, I wanted to marry Ereinion so I wasn't going to question it.

"Elbereth, we ask that you bless this Elf and Elf-maiden with love and light in their lives forever," Berialagor finished.

At this, Ereinion and I finally let go of each other's hands and stopped staring into each other's eyes, as it was time for our part of the ceremony. Ereinion took the wedding ring from Círdan and removed the silver betrothal ring from my index finger before replacing it with the gold ring (which incidentally was delicately engraved with an ornate pattern of leaves). I turned and accepted Ereinion's wedding band from Berialagor and removed his silver betrothal ring before replacing it with the identical gold ring that symbolised that he and I were formally wed to each other.

The crowd burst into deafening applause and cheers. My beloved and I were officially wed!

According to Elvish tradition, we each would keep the betrothal ring worn by the other. Discreetly, we both handed them to our 'parents' for safekeeping until later, since neither of us had a pouch of pocket in which to store it.

If you thought my wedding was over at that point, think again. Next was the exchanging of gifts, which in Elvish tradition is given by the bridegroom's father to the bride and the bride's mother to the bridegroom. It was something I had fretted over until Berialagor had told me not to worry and that Elendil had promised to take care of the matter himself.

As the cheers died down slightly, Círdan opened a beautiful carved wooden chest held by his squire and gently placed a very beautiful and very elaborate necklace around my neck.

_My father, Fingon, left this is Círdan's keeping just in case something should happen and he should not be present for my wedding. Círdan showed it to me many years ago, some years after my father had been killed when I was still a young child,_ Ereinion explained to me.

I'm certain that I blushed just enough to turn my cheeks a rosy colour, transforming myself into that popular literary picture of a blushing young bride. "Thank you," I whispered softly to both Círdan and Ereinion, not sure if I was allowed to speak. Since both my husband and his surrogate father smiled, I deduced that even if it had been a breach of protocol, I would be readily forgiven for it.

Sadoriel held out a strangely decorated box and Berialagor opened it. I couldn't see what was inside due to the fact my surrogate mother blocked it from view as she put the necklace around Ereinion's neck (he had to bend his head slightly so that Berialagor could do the clasp behind his neck) and then she stepped back. The necklace for my husband was exquisite and yet quite masculine in its glory. I can't describe it. It's one of those things you have to see to understand.

In any case, I turned to look at Elendil, wondering from whence he had obtained such a beautiful and priceless gift. Elendil just smiled. "I was given the necklace by Uinen when our ships were saved from the Downfall of Númenor. It was she who told me it was a gift for the husband of my daughter. Since I had no daughter, I did not understand her…but when I was asked to stand in for your own father, I realised what Uinen had meant."

Uinen! Uinen was a Maia, the wife of Ossë, and said to be the calm of the seas…why had she done that for me? Not that I wasn't grateful, but still it was puzzling.

I heard the murmurs of some of our guests and from Ereinion's own thoughts I gleaned that this was seen as confirmation that I was indeed 'sent by the Valar'. Whilst our guests didn't think it, I suddenly pondered the reason for sending Minaimîr and I to the War of the Last Alliance. Had it been to help the Alliance? Or had it been to each fulfil our destiny in marrying Glorfindel and Ereinion?

That thought would have to wait for later, as Elrond was now bringing forth a gold and mirthil circlet on a velvet cushion. The crown of the High Queen of the Elves.

I didn't stand taller or prouder as I had imagined I might, and my smile only slipped a bit from my face, but I'm not sure anyone other than Ereinion noticed. I'm not sure who else might have seen it in my eyes, but I know that Ereinion saw the wistfulness there. He said nothing but gave me an encouraging little smile.

Paranoid about screwing this bit of my wedding up, Sadoriel had shoved a cup of her calming tea into my hands before explaining that it really was the simplest part of all the protocol I had to go through in marrying Ereinion. All I had to do was stand still and let them crown me.

Ereinion removed the veil from my head, handing to Sadoriel so that he could take the crown from Elrond and whatever lingering murmurs died down immediately. Everyone waited breathlessly with anticipation.

I stood patiently, finding an inner calm that I hadn't had before. I was not afraid or anxious nor was I ecstatic about the crowning. It was a part of what I had accepted when I had decided to marry Ereinion and accept it I would with neither pleasure nor fear. Like Ereinion, I acknowledged it as my duty and I entered it willingly, for love of him.

Ereinion placed the crown gently on my brow; it fit perfectly. As he removed his hands to let the crown rest on my head, he announced to all, "Let it be known hereafter that Anórmír is my wife and the High Queen of the Elves in Middle Earth."

The cheers that went up were even louder than the ones before. At their sounds of jubilation, I could not help smiling in relief and joy at my husband, who grinned back at me.

Protocol or not, we wrapped our arms around each other and engaged in a passionate kiss.

The roar of elated joyousness did not dim or cease when we withdrew from our embrace and Ereinion took my hand in his and guided me through the crowd which parted to let us through.

Ereinion led me to the tent that would serve as our wedding night chamber. As Túmagol and Túmegil held open the outer tent flaps for us enter, I began to wonder about that pile of blankets that was Ereinion's bed…  
Sadoriel and a relatively young Elf whom was unfamiliar to me (though Ereinion briefly explained the Elf in question was his squire, Nîthion) opened the flaps to the inner chamber of the tent.  
I gaped in awe, which quickly turned into a grin. I put my hands over my mouth and giggled. The desk, chair and blankets had gone and in its place was a bed of three huge fluffy mattresses, the top of which almost reached up to my waist.

Ereinion wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Am I to judge by your smile that you approve?" he murmured teasingly next to my sensitive ear.

I had trouble controlling my voice to breathe, "Very much." I turned my head to look at him. "How?" I asked simply.

"It is a gift from Isildur," Ereinion explained with a grin. "He wished to make amends for his past transgressions and hoped that we might find this useful."

I giggled again, blushing bright red.

No, I'm not going to tell you anything further about my wedding night. That's between me and my gorgeous husband. However, I will, with a lop-sided grin, summarise it in one word: _WOW_…naughty giggle

It was just as my mind was on the verge of slipping into a deep contented sleep that I heard a voice come from the direction of the tent flap. "My Lord?" the male voice enquired timidly.

I furrowed my brow in irritation and snuggled against my husband, as though doing so could somehow drown our reality. Ereinion's arms pulled me closer as he sighed and said softly, "I thought I asked you not to disturb us until an hour past high noon."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Ereinion's squire replied, "My Lord…it is already the second hour past midday."

That got me awake. 2 o'clock already? But I hadn't even gotten to sleep yet!

blush……Just don't go there. I told you – you don't need to know anything more about my wedding night than what I've already told you.

For a moment there was only the sound of Ereinion's breathing. I stared at him groggily, silently hoping that he would tell his squire to leave us alone until tomorrow morning…

"In five minutes time, I will require your assistance to dress," Ereinion spoke at last, ruining my chances of going back to sleep.

"Of course, my Lord." Nîthion sounded rather relieved to be dismissed. The flap closed completely once more.

"Hmmm," I protested, burying my head into Ereinion's neck.

_My apologies, my darling,_ Ereinion bethought me regretfully. _But we must forego sleep at this time. We are expected to join the rest of the Alliance in Mordor tonight. And I fear that when we arrive, neither of us will be allowed to rest – we must ensure that the camp is properly settled, defended and prepared for an attack. That will require us to attend a good many meetings._

I almost groaned aloud at the prospect of going without sleep for a second night in a row. My previous record of staying awake was 28 hours straight. It was already well past that since I had first awoken yesterday, and I was exhausted. How was I ever going to make it through my first day as Queen?

Ereinion kissed my forehead. _They have allowed us an extra hour,_ he pointed out.

_Yes, but if they hadn't, they'd have gotten a real shock, wouldn't they?_ I retorted.

Ereinion chuckled and drew me into a gentle passionate kiss before he reluctantly disentangled himself from me and climbed out of bed. He had only just pulled up the covers to ensure that I was entirely and modestly covered when Nîthion peered in, making sure that the coast was clear, and, with palpable relief at seeing that only my husband was out of bed, entered our chambers with a clean set of clothes for Ereinion.

I grinned beneath the shelter of the bedcovers as I watched Nîthion help Ereinion get dressed. I'm sure that if Ereinion had lived on Earth, he would have been mistaken for Paris of Troy, or Adonis, or someone like that...

Nîthion was trying very hard not to show it, but I could tell that he was nervous. Every time Ereinion wasn't paying attention, Nîthion would glance at me anxiously before turning away, blushing.

_Darling_, I began, determined to point this out. _Your squire seems a little uneasy at your new marital status_.

Ereinion made no physical action to acknowledge that he had heard, but in my mind he replied, _Why do you think that?_

_It might have something to do with the fact that he's trembling and he keeps glancing at me nervously,_ I replied.

This time when Nîthion glanced at me, Ereinion was watching. He turned before his squire could become aware that he had been caught out. _I will speak to him later_, Ereinion assured me.

By the time Ereinion was completely dressed, including armour, Nîthion made a hasty exit from the room. It was almost insulting, as though he thought marriage might be a contagious disease or something. Ereinion's lips twitched in a smile as he lent over the bed to kiss me. "Your turn," he said before he left our 'bedchamber'.  
Sadoriel and Berialagor entered only moments after he left and I reluctantly pushed back the covers. I was feeling even more self-conscious than before my wedding about my present state of nudity. I suppose it was because I was no longer a maiden, and that everyone knew it that made me suddenly so uncomfortable.

Anyhow, after I was dressed in an entirely new gown and wearing the circlet that denoted my status as queen, I wandered out of the tent, hoping that what I needed to do next would be clearly apparent.

It was. Ereinion, his personal guard and my personal guard were all standing, or mounted on their horses, waiting for me to emerge. The rest of the lords and commanders had gone on ahead to the new camp a few hours earlier (their lateness in rising was due to the pounding hangovers they were now sporting) and the few who had come from Osgiliath (such as Finduilas and her party) had already headed back to the capital city of Gondor.

Ereinion turned, a smile playing at his lips. "So nice of you to join us, my dear," he commented, coming over to take my hand and lead me to my horse Lossúl. He and I would be riding separately, due to the rough terrain of Mordor. As it was, most of the horses wouldn't stay with the Alliance. There would only be a few dozen left, in case there was need of them. Lossúl was numbered among those that would stay, since I was considered an important personage and if something should go ill, I would be among the first evacuated from the camp. Small relief, since I knew that should such a situation arise, Ereinion would be expected to stay.

I raised an eyebrow at him. _Only because you got out of bed first_, I reminded him, though because no one else could hear it, it did not stop the badly disguised chuckles and grins of our guards. Rúmion even whistled encouragingly at us. Ereinion grinned as he moved round to mount his own horse, but I turned around and glared playfully at Rúmion who just grinned broadly back at me. "Do you suppose we could at least pretend to have a little professionalism?" I asked him. I couldn't help blushing slightly, even though I was telling him off. Having turned around, I could now see just how many faces were smirking behind us.

"As you wish, my Queen," Rúmion replied formally, limiting his grin to a smirk. Thangail looked like he was on the verge of laughter himself.

"Oh dear," I muttered under my breath, turning back to face forward once more. Somehow I managed not to roll my eyes.

I could feel Ereinion getting prepared to tell me 'I told you so' or something along those lines, so I warned him, _Don't._ _Just don't say a word._

Ereinion's mouth was fixed in a small smirk as we nudged our horses forward.

The journey to the new camp took several hours, on account of the fact that we didn't want to ride the horses faster than a walk over the terrain if it could be avoided. Since there was no hurry, walk it we did. Dinner was just finished being served to all, though there was still some kept for our group.  
Ereinion and I were allowed to enjoy dinner together before being dragged into a gathering of Ereinion's commanders. Mostly it was still a case of 'this is done, but I haven't gotten round to checking out that yet…' or 'so and so is having a few difficulties…' or 'there's problems with the layout of the camp/ supplies gone AWOL …', etc, etc. Incidentally, it was all spoken in Elvish, but I found that problem particularly easy to overcome since I was able to use Ereinion's mind unconsciously as a translation dictionary. What he understood, so too did I.  
It was a female Elf who spoke up next. She wasn't a regular attendee of council meetings, but apparently the camp relocation issues included her in those necessary to be present. "My Lord," she began respectfully but firmly. "The Healers are woefully undermanned. The wounded have all been transferred here, but the Men lost quite a few of their Healers to sickness, which was the result of having so many of their own wounded to tend to. We've sent some of our healers to help them, but there's one healing tent between the Elves and Men, which tends to both kindreds, that are in a bit of chaos at the moment. Due to fact that we have less space than we did before, so the healing tents are more crowded, and we have not time to check where all of our supplies have been brought since arriving here and how much of each item that we have. If there are soldiers or somebody who can be spared to help us, we would be most grateful."  
A thought flashed across my mind during the Elf maiden's report so quickly that I wasn't sure whether it had originated from me or whether it had been Ereinion's idea first.  
"Anórmír," Ereinion turned to me. Though I whole-hearted agreed with the idea, I was a little annoyed by his decision. My husband is not very subtle when it comes to directing me towards a part in this war that he'd rather I'd play. It was something for us to discuss later, because no way was I letting him get out of teaching me to fight. I knew that he'd much rather that I join the healers permanently though.  
I nodded before he'd had a chance to finish explaining. Sadoriel, who had been sitting sewing to one side, jumped up and smiled in wordless support that she too was going to help.  
The head-healer, Serkewen, showed us to the healing tent that served both Elves and Men. She introduced us to the healer in charge of that particular tent, an Elf-woman by the name of Tereva. The second-in-command of the tent was a human woman, Saranya, of like attitude. I noticed that these healers had a personality that seemed to be dominated by grim determination. They were compassionate towards their patients, but not as much as I expected. When I thought about it though, I suppose they couldn't really afford to be as openly kindly or sympathetic; it would have caused too much heart-ache to see so many people in their care die.  
Tereva set us to opening the boxes and making a list of what they had. It was tedious work, since many of the bottles and jars were labelled in Elvish and Sadoriel did not know the names in the tongue of Men, so I had to list the items in Elvish copied from the jars.

The tedium of the task was relieved a short while later by the arrival of Minaimîr. She came bounding into the tent with a broad grin and her usual enthusiasm.

"Oh dear," I murmured so that only Sadoriel could hear me. Having known my sister for so long, I could guess what was coming.

"You did it!" Minaimîr squealed. She gave me a hug (and almost spilling the ink everywhere). "And you didn't mess it up or anything, like you were worried that you would."

Thanks, I thought to myself dryly and I'm sure my expression said as much. I caught a glimpse of a smile on Sadoriel's face before she could relax her features into pretending that she hadn't heard. Some of the other healers were smiling and exchanging glances.

"So…" Minaimîr began with a nasty glint in her eye, trying not leave any opportunity for me to dodge the question.

"Sister, we're working," I interrupted pointedly.

"I know. But I wanted to know if you enjoyed yourself last night?" Minaimîr grinned wickedly.

I flushed bright red, but I continued on trying to pretend that I wasn't. "Minaimîr, that is hardly-"

"Stop avoiding the question and answer me." Minaimîr crossed her arms.

"It does not concern you-" I tried again as calmly as I could, keenly aware that everyone had stopped to watch us.

"Just tell me – did you enjoy it?" Minaimîr persisted determinedly.

"That is between myself and my husband," I replied prudishly and resolutely.

"I'm not leaving until you give me all the sordid details," Minaimîr declared, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Shocked that my sister would do that to me (did I ask for details about her first night with Glorfindel? No. I was also kind enough not to mention that her wedding night was had long before her wedding.), I flushed a deeper shade of red. Desperate for some kind of compromise that would get me out of that uncomfortable situation, I finally said, "If I say 'yes', will you leave me alone?"

Thankfully, my sister was so elated to hear me say 'yes' that I was relieved of having to 'give all the sordid details'. She squealed and hugged me and was cackling gleefully on her way out when all of a sudden she stopped and turned around. "As long as 'yes' is the truth. That you did enjoy…?"

Despairing that I should ever get rid of my nosy sister, I exclaimed exasperatedly, "Yes! Now will you leave me alone?"

With a last shriek of joy, Minaimîr bounded back out of the tent and left us to our work. It was at that point that the healers became all too aware that I was aware they weren't working. They hastily went back to work.

I rubbed my hot cheek with one hand, glancing bashfully at Sadoriel, who was smiling. "Please, not you as well," I begged.

Sadoriel rested a hand on my shoulder. "Your secrets are safe with us, my Queen."

I winced at the title. "Sadoriel, please. I prefer just to be called 'Anórmír'."

"You are the High Queen of the Elves in Middle Earth," Sadoriel protested steadily. "It would be wrong for me to call you by just your name. I am your lady-in-waiting. If I do not use the appropriate formalities then other lords and ladies will think I have no respect for you. It would not reflect well on you as a Lady, let alone a Lady of your status."

Ouch. I sighed. "We'll continue this argument later. What's the next bottle say?"

I don't know how long we spent listing the contents of the healing supplies, but after a long time, I had this strange uplifting feeling…  
Looking behind me, I found Ereinion, who had been peering over my shoulder at the list I'd compiled. Instinctively, I smiled at him. "Escaped the commanders, did you?" I asked, looking back to Sadoriel who had paused in reading the names. I wrote it down on the sheet of parchment.  
"For the time being," Ereinion replied.  
"And so you came to watch us make lists? I'm touched," I teased.  
Ereinion wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my hair. "Actually, I came to steal my wife…" he said.  
Some of younger healers giggled before they could bite their lips to stop themselves.  
Still smiling, I raised an eyebrow before asking Sadoriel, "How much more do we have to go?"  
"Half the box," Sadoriel replied. She too was trying to hide a small grin.  
I turned back to Ereinion. "Sorry, darling, but you've got half a box to wait," I told him teasingly.  
Ereinion, however, had other ideas. He lifted me up and tossed me over his shoulder. In shock, I dropped the list, quill and ink bottle (thankfully it was corked at the time). I shrieked in surprise.  
"Ereinion!" I protested shrilly.  
Ereinion was having none of it. With his arm wrapped around my legs to make sure I couldn't extract myself from the position in which he'd put me, Ereinion cheerfully strolled out of the tent. I suppose in retrospect I could have avoided a certain amount of embarrassment if I hadn't been so vocal about telling my husband that I was quite capable of walking and would happily do so to wherever it was he wanted so long as he'd let me down...but my half-laughing protests (hey, it was  
kinda fun wink, grin) fell deaf on Ereinion's ears, though a goodly number of Elven soldiers heard and came to check out what exactly was going on. Once they took in the situation (the High King heading for his tent with his Lady thrown over his shoulder), they cheered and laughed.  
"That's one way of getting her to bed, my Lord!" one of the more brazen Elves called encouragingly, much to the mirth of his companions.  
"You're enjoying this," I accused my husband, blushing furiously.  
Though I couldn't see it, I knew that Ereinion just grinned more broadly than before.  
"My Lord," I said, after several more moments of listening to whistles and applause. It was time to try a different approach! "Flattered though I am that you are carrying me-" I was abruptly because Ereinion shifted me with a jolt that ended my speech. I couldn't help giggling at that point. And it felt a lot better to be laughing along with everyone else, than have them laughing **at** me.  
"You're only brave enough to do this because you're wearing armour and that means I can't poke you or hit you," I teased wickedly.  
"Be careful, Anórmír, you'll incite me to do this more often – and without armour," Ereinion replied gleefully.  
Eventually we reached our new tent (it was much improved than the old one) and Ereinion playfully dumped me onto the bed of mattresses. He crawled onto the bed, an arm on other side of me so that all my chances of escape (as if I'd want to!) were blocked. With a grin, I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him into a kiss. Ereinion was very happy about that.  
My eyes were closed, and though I felt Ereinion's lips leave mine, I was trapped in a dream state like the one I had experienced while I was preparing for my wedding. Except this time, the dream was so similar to reality I was almost convinced it was happening at that moment. In the dream, I was in the same room, same clothes, on the same bed with Ereinion, but he wasn't kissing me anymore and then Círdan appeared, pushing aside the fabric doors of our private chamber and saying "I'm sorry to interrupt you both, but, Gil-galad, you're needed at a council with King Elendil. They suspect another attack soon."  
I opened my eyes and I was back in reality, Ereinion was pulling back a second time, having just kissed me again. Confused and dazed by the dream, I did not realise that Ereinion had paused.  
"What is it?" he asked concerned.  
"A strange dream," I answered uncertainly. Ereinion stared at me, though I could not determine his emotion.  
"What kind of dream?" he asked softly.  
"I…it was just like this," I said slowly, trying to recall what I had seen in the dream without the hazy sense of sleep that had overwhelmed me when it had happened. "Except that Lord Círdan was opening the door-" I pointed to the tent flaps that were the only way in or out of the bedchamber from the antechamber. "And he said 'I'm sorry to interrupt you both, but, Gil-galad, you're needed at a council with King Elendil. They suspect another attack soon.'" I looked at Ereinion, wondering what he made of it. Ereinion stared at me thoughtfully.  
Before either of us could say or do anything further, a rustle of the fabric drew our attention to the door where Círdan appeared, pushing the flap aside. He opened his mouth and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt you both, but, Gil-galad, you're needed at a council with King Elendil. They suspect another attack soon."  
I snapped my head back to Ereinion. "Déjà vu," I whispered. Ereinion looked at me again contemplatively.  
"What is the matter?" Círdan asked, sensing our strange mood.  
My mouth went dry and I didn't know what to say.  
Ereinion turned back to Círdan. "Anórmír just foresaw the moment of your entrance," he explained quietly.  
Círdan stared at me thoughtfully as well.  
"I-I…" I tried to find the words to deny that what I had seen had been the future, except that it had been, and then I tried to find another explanation, but I could find none.  
"She was explaining it to me, just before you arrived. Your first words were exactly as she told them to me just moments earlier," Ereinion continued, confidence returning to his usual voice and tone.  
Círdan nodded. "It is a matter we will have to investigate at a later time," he said shortly. "We have that meeting to attend."  
Ereinion nodded in agreement. A small smile crept onto his lips as he recalled what we had been doing before we'd been interrupted. As he stood, he said casually to me, "I shall try not to keep you waiting, my Lady."  
"Good," I grinned cheekily. "In the meantime though, I think I'll use the extra time to have a bath." The bath tub was currently in the corner of our bedchamber, and I suspected that it was likely to remain there as long as I was in residence.  
Ereinion grinned shamelessly as he followed Círdan, who was shaking his head dismissively and good-humouredly, out of the tent.

Nîthion was unsurprisingly obliging when I emerged from the bedchamber to ask if he could possibly find Sadoriel for me. Whilst I didn't like the idea of pulling Sadoriel away from the work that I myself was supposed to be doing, I liked the idea of asking Nîthion for hot bath water even less. Nîthion, however, seemed to like the idea that someone else would have to tend to me and he could get out of my sight. Ereinion most definitely had to speak to him.

Sadoriel arrived, slightly confused but upon seeing that it was just me in the bedchamber, understood immediately that my husband had been called away. I apologised to her of course, but Sadoriel waved my apologies away and happily went to obtain the necessary apparatus for my bath. Sadoriel enjoyed being helpful, something I wasn't going to complain about.

So it wasn't long before I was soaking gratefully in hot water, liberally sprinkled with scented oils. "Hmmm," I murmured contentedly.

"My Lady is very fond of hot baths," Sadoriel observed after quite some time of silence.

"Extremely," I confessed happily.

There was no chance to pursue that conversation further for at that moment my beloved husband chose to enter by way of the door from the antechamber (there were two doors leading into the bedchamber; one from the outer antechamber and one from the room that would serve as Ereinion's 'study').

"I thought you might still be in the bath," Ereinion greeted me affectionately. He glanced at Sadoriel, who understood that she was dismissed for the time being. After Sadoriel had left, Ereinion dumped the pile of parchment in his hand onto our bed and came to sit on the edge of the bath, dipping his fingers into the warm water. He traced patterns on the surface of the water before looking at me. "Regrettably I will not be able to join you, my dear," he apologised straightforwardly. "I don't think anyone realised just how much paperwork a war takes. I have those parchments to read over and I need to pass some of them on to my quartermaster along with a note about what he needs to order, not to mention writing a letter to my dear mother to be passed along when the messenger is sent to Lindon."

I took Ereinion's large hand between my own in silent support. "I understand," I told him. With a small smile, I added, "And tomorrow you'll have the headache of trying to find something else for me to do."

Ereinion lent over and kissed me. "I have arranged with my acquaintances in the nursing division that certain healers shall spend a few hours with you on alternate mornings to teach you the art of healing. That should give you something to occupy your time."

"Darling, you're about a subtle as an oliphaunt on a rampage," I said dryly.

"It's a practical use for your time," Ereinion insisted in protest. "There will not be much opportunity for you to learn many other crafts or talents whilst you remain with me and the Alliance, and this is something I feel sure of you being able to learn without the need for me to be present." All of it was said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Convenient."

Ereinion just chuckled. "Take care not to drown yourself wallowing in the water, my love. I will be finished my work as soon as possible."

Pushing aside my feelings about Ereinion's blatant 'shove' in the direction of a war-time occupation he wished for me to take, I estimated that I spent another good hour in the bath before deciding the water was getting too chilly for me to remain comfortable any longer.

I gathered that Sadoriel had resigned herself to rest for the night after being dismissed by my husband, but I wasn't worried by it. I had seen where she laid the towel and the nightgown (taken from my backpack…is there no end to the stuff that comes out of my bag?) out on the chest that held my gowns. I was a big girl – and quite capable of dressing myself after all. When I was dressed in my nightie, I briefly considered going to bed before opting to see how far along my husband was with his tasks.

Using the door that would take me directly into the 'study room' without having to go through the antechamber, I was glad that my husband smiled as he saw me enter. Ereinion held out his arms in wordless instruction and I grinned, taking my seat in his lap.

"How goes it?" I asked, nuzzling his neck.

"Hmmm," Ereinion murmured happily before taking up his quill again. "I am almost finished. I need to complete the letter to the quartermaster and seal the letter to my mother." He gestured to the envelope that sat on the desk to one side. It was quite fat with parchment.

Curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up, but was disappointed to find that the name was written in Elvish, so it was a reasonable enough assumption that the whole letter would be written in Elvish. Sure enough, when I pulled the letter out it was all written in Elvish characters. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised – after all, my husband and his mother are Elves. I couldn't expect that everyone in Middle Earth would speak, read and write English just because I did.

Ereinion suddenly pulled out a drawer that I hadn't noticed beneath the main part of the desk and took out another quill and bottle of ink to give to me. "There is a little bit of space on the back page for you to write a short note to my mother," he said.

I stared at the drawer as Ereinion pushed it back into its place, hidden away underneath.

"You did not realise there was a drawer there?" Ereinion surmised to his amusement.

I blushed slightly. "Not really. Every time I've seen this desk I've always been distracted by you. Mostly because you're in the room with me, but on the other occasions you were still in my thoughts. I never noticed, alright?" My embarrassment grew as Ereinion broke into laughter at my explanation.

"Ah, my Anórmír," Ereinion let his laughter dissolve into chuckles.

Pretending that nothing had happened, I picked up the last page of the letter and turned to the back. I had roughly half a page in which to write my regards to Ereinion's mother. I picked up my quill and poised to dip it into the ink before I realised I was struck with a dilemma: what do you write to your new mother-in-law when you haven't even met her?

I looked at my husband. Ereinion had already resumed his message to the quartermaster, still smiling. I bit my lip and rested my hand on the parchment, the quill still without ink. I wrestled for quite some time before I decided that at the very least some thanks for sending Sadoriel and the beautiful wardrobe of gowns might be in order. I dipped the quill in the ink and almost touched the paper before I realised that I didn't even know what to call her. Lady Tinnulin? Was that too formal? I was certain 'Mum' or 'my dear mother-in-law' wasn't likely to go down well. I couldn't exactly say 'Miss Tinnulin' or 'Mrs Tinnulin' either.

"My _naneth_ will not mind what you decide how you choose to refer to her," Ereinion said, breaking the silence.

I drained the quill of ink and looked at him sheepishly. Trying to write half a page to my new mother-in-law was tough enough without my husband being aware of how much trouble I was having with it. Apparently Ereinion knew that thought as well because he distracted me with a soft kiss. Opting to let myself be distracted, I snuggled closer to my husband.

Needless to say, my husband's efforts to drive me to distraction were going exceedingly well until we were most unfortunately interrupted. Having heard the rustle of the tent flap, I glanced over Ereinion's shoulder at the intruder. Nîthion had strolled into the room, unaware what was going on, but once he saw me in my husband's lap, he took on the expression of deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

"-My Lord!" he choked, casting about some means of apology or escape. Apparently what he had to say was important enough for him to stay where he was. I grinned mirthfully, my mouth hidden from Nîthion's view by Ereinion's shoulder, as I watched Nîthion force himself to pretend nothing was wrong. It must have taken a lot of self-discipline to be able to stand up straight and stare calmly ahead when your king and his wife are being openly affectionate with each other.

"Lord Elrond asked me to inform you that a messenger arrived from Imladris. The next month's food supplies are on their way, my Lord." The squire reported grimly.

Ereinion began to stand and I hid my smile as I got off his lap. Ereinion picked up the note to his quartermaster and handed it to Nîthion with not the slightest trace of self-consciousness. I envied his strong willed composure. "Thank you, Nîthion. This is to be taken to the quartermaster."

Nîthion nodded, maintaining his pretence that nothing was amiss. "He will likely send a messenger to Lindon as soon as he has compiled a response. Has my Lord any other letters to send?" Apparently he too knew about Ereinion's letter to his mother.

"I have, but it is not yet finished. I have more that I wish now to add before sending it. Ask Narwanár to delay sending the messenger until then. I should have the letter finished in morning." Ereinion said.

Nîthion inclined his head with obvious relief to be able to leave. As he headed to the door, I caught Ereinion's thoughts and discovered that usually his squire would wish him a good night before leaving. Annoyed that first Nîthion just blatantly ignored me and then proceeds to change his usual courtesy to my husband in favour of leaving as quickly as he could, I couldn't help myself.

As Nîthion reached for the flap, I said dryly, "You know, Nîthion, marriage isn't contagious. You needn't fear that you will somehow come down with a sudden urge to get married yourself."

Nîthion froze and glanced at me before looking at Ereinion. Though I couldn't see it myself, I knew that Nîthion could read the unhappy puzzlement in Ereinion's eyes. Nîthion looked away guiltily.

Perhaps I should have said nothing and let the air of forced tranquillity continue. I surprised myself by speaking out. Normally I would just hold up the pretence myself until such time as it was sorted out privately. But I wanted it to end now.

_Anórmír_, Ereinion spoke solemnly within my mind. _Please retire to our bedchamber_. _I will be there shortly_.

I sighed. With a brief inclination of my head, I said, "Please excuse me." And promptly ducked into the bedroom.

Wanting to know what was going on, but understanding that I could not be present while Ereinion dealt with Nîthion, I sat cross-legged on the bed and closed my eyes, concentrating. Sure enough, I was able to see the exchange between my husband and his squire…

"**Nîthion," Ereinion said with a hint of warning in his voice. "I cannot let this continue. There must be harmony in my House, now more than ever. That includes the relationship between my wife and my squire. The Dark Lord would like nothing more than for us, his enemies, to be in conflict with one another."**

**Nîthion seemed even more uncomfortable than before. "My Lord," he said respectfully but awkwardly. He struggled with a way to express himself without giving offence. "I was not here when you first met Lady Anórmír, nor as you grew close to her. I only discovered your relationship by way of your summons and invitation to attend your wedding. I arrived too late to get used to Lady Anórmír being around." He paused. "And she seems extremely young to have been getting married."**

**Ereinion nodded in understanding. "Nîthion, I need your help in this matter more than any other. Anórmír is not familiar with being a Lady, let alone being the High Queen of the Elves in Middle Earth. She has Sadoriel to guide her in the arts of being a Lady, Berialagor will help Anórmír come to terms with her restriction of her freedom – Anórmír can no longer walk unprotected beneath the stars as she once used to – and also help Anórmír to understand when I have to make decisions that she may not like…but I need you to help my wife understand the politics and positions held in Lindon, and how we stand in relation to the other kingdoms."**

**Nîthion's look softened. "Just how young is the High Queen?" he asked curiously.**

**Ereinion hesitated. "Suffice it to say the High Queen is young enough. It would be best for me not to say exactly. You have duties of your own this evening I believe. I hope that you and Anórmír can learn to live with these circumstances. May the Valar see fit to give us a swift victory in this war."**

**Nîthion smiled genuinely. "May they indeed."**

**As Ereinion headed for the flap that would lead him to me, Nîthion blurted out, "My Lord!"**

**Ereinion turned expectantly.**

**Nîthion threw caution to the wind and gave a mischievous grin. "As the Men would say…Sweet Dreams!"**

**Ereinion chuckled and grinned as Nîthion withdrew to the antechamber.**

Something changed and I was no longer in control of what I was seeing. I knew I should have seen Ereinion open the flap and then I should have opened my eyes to see him there, but I could not. The vision took hold and instead, I followed Nîthion into the antechamber, where Sadoriel slept on her pallet of blankets and Berialagor was preparing for sleep as well…

**When Berialagor caught sight of Nîthion's grin, she raised an eyebrow. Nîthion's grin faded slightly and he blushed.**

"**What is it, cousin?" Berialagor asked curiously.**

"**I…" Nîthion flushed a deeper red, his grin wiped completely off his face as he recalled his embarrassment. "I was not expecting to find the King with his Lady."**

**Berialagor gaped slightly. "Anórmír…?"**

"Anórmír?"

I heard Ereinion's concerned voice at the edge of my consciousness, but I couldn't end the vision.

"**Aye. I was as shocked as you are now – actually, I was more so at the time. I was somewhat rude, something that apparently disturbed Lady Anórmír enough for her to point it out. I've been chastised by the High King and hopefully things will get better from here on out." Nîthion confessed.**

_Anórmír._

Ereinion's mental voice penetrated the hazy fog on my mind and I was finally able to free myself of the entanglement of the vision. I shook my head to clear, blinking. I was suddenly very glad to be back.

I felt Ereinion probe my thoughts with his own mind. In doing so, he came to understand the sequence of events that had led me to be trapped in the vision. "Perhaps you should not try that again until I have the leisure to be at your side to assist should something go wrong," he suggested gravely. "Your abilities are progressing and it would be unwise to allow them to get out of hand whilst we are in Mordor. We will practice mind exercises later." A grin slowly grew on his face. "But for now…"

I think you can guess what came next. Try not to be too vivid in your imagination.


	27. Bloody Hell!

There was a battle a couple of days ago. Correction: there was _another_ battle a couple of days ago. It seems that these days there's at least one every other day. Sometimes they last comparatively forever…sometimes the Orcs slack off and we can actually sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

Thankfully, I've managed to learn how to go for a few days on end without any sort of sleep. Glorfy started in on teaching me that Elvish trick of walking the 'paths of dreams' while I'm technically awake. Not much success yet, but I'm getting better. But I must say: there's no substitute for a deep, deep sleep.

Right. Moving on. I'm sure I've probably mentioned that my sister is going a little fey on me (or a little 'Fe' on me? Hee hee hee! Sometimes I slay myself.) Meaning, latent precognitive abilities suddenly appeared. I think it's related (a little) to the fact that she's a bonded Elf. Some Elves (for example, Elrond) already have the Talent of Foresight, so I can't think of the idea that Fe has it as farfetched. I just wish that my precognitive abilities were as strong as hers now are.

Anyway, before the latest battle, I was having a reasonably comfortable sleep when Glorfy was called out. I dozed a little, wondering if I should also be jumping up when Glorfy returned and woke me with a thought.

_The High Queen has predicted a battle, melyanna,_ he told me. _Ready yourself. The Orcs will attack soon_.

_Not another one,_ I groaned. _Bloody hell._

I rose quickly, though groggily, and got myself into my armour. My _real_ armour, that is. Not that flimsy crap that nearly got me killed in front of the Gates. Ready, I kissed my husband soundly and set out to find Fiona because I'd told myself that protecting her fulfills two duties: 1) She's my sister and I protect my family, and 2) She's kind of my Queen. I'm still not quite adapted to this (in theory, she can give me orders as binding as Gilly's), but I'm sure I'll deal. Glorfy came with me because the command pavilion was on the way, and he was needed there. When he left me I had to suppress the feeling that I might never see him again. It would all work out. He was still needed three thousand years from now.

I was about half way across the camp when the realization struck me that something was terribly wrong with my twin and I had to hurry. My stomach dropped to my knees, and I sped up. But I didn't draw my sword yet even though I could hear the horrible sounds of fighting around me in the darkness – my mother had always taught me to never run with sharp objects. There were torches in the distance and I guessed from the way that they were jostling about that those in battle carried them.

I made a beeline right for where I intuitively knew Fiona to be. From the errant light of the torches I could see her, surrounded by Orcs and her guard…and swordless.

This made me annoyed. Who in their right mind trains a woman to use a sword and then tell her that it would be inappropriate for her to carry one? Honestly! I am going to have to have some strong words with Gilly about this. If she had had one from the beginning, she might not have gotten herself wounded.

I came barrelling up over a small hillock and began methodically hacking my way through the unruly Orcs around me. They died a lot faster than they had in previous battles, I noticed. This whole practical experience with a sword thing was really paying off. But not fast enough.

For every Orc I cut down another two or three would appear. It took for bloody ever for me to reach Fiona and her guards. I was almost there when a horn blew and Círdan's Elves slammed into the far side of the group of Orcs around my twin.

"To the Queen!" I heard someone yell. "Protect the High Queen!"

I watched Fiona, and saw her look relieved. She was distracted by the imminent arrival of reinforcements. My heart lurched into my throat as I saw an Orc take advantage of her distraction and slash his scimitar deeply across her arm.

Screaming in rage that such a foul creature would even dare to lay hands on my kin, I hacked my way even faster through the Orcs, sometimes not even bothering to kill them properly, but just kick them out of the way. I got to her just in time to see another Orc stab Fiona in the thigh with a spear. I dispatched it with no small amount of pleasure.

By then, Círdan's Elves had reached us, relieving for an instant the pressure of the Orcs around us. Fiona's guard regrouped quickly, Berialagor lifting my sister under one arm. "Get her out!" I said, though I don't think anyone heard me. I was too busy fighting Orcs to accompany them.

Her wounds weren't too bad, I told myself. She'll live. Kill the Orcs.

The sun was well up before I realized that the last Orc had been killed. Not the last Orc in Mordor, by any means, but the last one in the camp. Tired, I stumbled around, looking for a cleaner bit cloth for me to wipe my sword on. The blade was smeared and splattered with Orc blood. Not surprising, I was too. I desperately wanted a bath and wondered if Fe would mind lending me her tub for a day or two.

I suppose I should mention one other thing that seemed odd. I really am loathe to mention it because it seems somewhat silly that I would even think this, but I suppose I must for the sake of historical recordings and all that. Plus, it will explain why, for a day or two, Glorfy couldn't hear much and had to walk around with burn ointment on his right hand.

I think I might be able to control lightning.

Now, don't look like that. I did say 'might', after all. There's a very big chance that I'm just delusional. Let me explain.

At some point in the night, the sky started to get a little lighter. I say 'a little' because with the cloud cover, it was really hard to tell if day was dawning or if my eyes were being wonky. Either way, at some point I found myself backed up on an outcrop of volcanic rock (there's really no other kind around here), outside the protective wall of the camp. My darling husband was fighting his way towards me. I could see him and a few other Elves cutting their way through on horseback. Minras, that wonderful beast, was biting and kicking and doing his fair share of damage despite danger to his hamstrings.

The outcrop ended in a ledge some fifteen feet high. Beneath that was a broiling sea of Orcs and corpses of Orcs. In front of me and all around were the bodies of the Orcs that I had killed myself, and others that had been dead when I'd gotten there. It was only a matter of time before my sword was knocked from my hands. I dived to retrieve it and at the same time kicked the feet of an Orc out from under it. My sword clattered over the edge of the outcrop, landing on a small ledge – just out of my reach.

"Bloody hell!" I yelled and stood up, backing as far away as I could from the coming bunyips. I threw rocks at them, the first things my hands found. This only succeeded in buying me a little time. Needless to say, I was feeling a little desperate. Glorfy was still too far away to be of any assistance and I was weapon-less and running out of loose rocks.

But then the world slowed down to nearly nothing. All sound except for the beating of my heart faded away, and everything I could see took on a glassy quality. I felt my gaze being drawn up to the sky, to the seething clouds, and something inside went '_twing'_. It was almost as if a circuit breaker inside me had been flipped, switched back on.

A white-hot, jagged line of light stabbed up from the ground and met its counterpart on the way down from the clouds. It flickered so fast that I almost couldn't tell if it were flickering at all, and it left searing white lines across my eyes. The crack was deafening; the shockwave picked me up and dashed me against the side of the outcrop. The air reeked of ozone and sulphur. I had been relatively close to lightning strikes before, but never this close. Orcs and bits of Orcs went flying around me. Those that hadn't been killed lay stunned.

I staggered to my feet, trying to see past the flash burn, wincing because I just _knew_ that I was sporting some more bruises on my back. Glorfy was calling my name, both aloud and within my mind. I tried to tell him that I was okay, but I don't know if I got through.

Something went '_twing'_ again, and I looked up. My sight was blurred, almost gone completely, but I could almost feel…something, feel it reaching down from the sky towards me. I stretched out my hand, trying to touch it.

I don't have many words to describe what happened then. Whatever was reaching towards me touched my hand, and it seemed that I was greeting an old friend. The impression I got was that of a cat curling around the legs of a long absent master. My hand, and consequently my entire body, was covered in warmth. It felt almost fuzzy, like the softest of fleece blankets. I felt connected by this thing from the sky to the earth beneath my feet, a part of a larger whole, and one piece of the proverbial puzzle. Every hair on my body stood on end. Gradually, the fuzzy warmth receded from my limbs and settled itself around my solar plexus, and again I got an impression of a cat, this one curling up to go to sleep.

I blinked and it was over. And then I saw Glorfindel.

He was lying on his back. The fingers of his right hand were blackened and singed. His eyes were closed, and it looked as though his ears were bleeding. I was at his side before I realized that I'd moved – and that I could see again.

_My love,_ I called him. _Wake up!_

I checked his pulse, terrified that I might not feel it; but it was there. I checked his breathing, and that was all right too. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when his eyes creaked open.

"Thank all that is holy," I breathed. I gathered him up in my arms and kissed him all over. "Oh sweet Jebebus! Can you stand?" I asked. "These Orcs won't stay stunned forever."

Glorfy nodded briefly. He winced. "Are you unhurt? I saw…" he trailed off. Images flickered briefly in my mind, but I could make no sense of them. "Where is Minras?" he asked as I helped him up. He was peering around, no doubt trying to clear his eyes of flash burn.

I squinted into the night. It helps that Minras glows in the dark. "Not far from here. He's unhurt, by the looks of it. But he looks skittish."

"We must reach him if we are to return to the camp with haste. Where is your sword?" Glorfindel asked.

"It went over the edge and I couldn't reach it," I answered, oddly embarrassed. One of the lessons that had been drilled into my head in the past few weeks was that one's sword is an extension of one's body, and one does not leave it lying around. After all – one cannot leave one's limbs lying around.

"I will get it," my husband replied. He limped over to the edge of the outcrop and knelt, reaching down to grasp the hilt of my sword – with his left hand. Straightening, he handed it to me. "You have short arms, Minaimîr," he said with a small smile.

"All the better to hug you with," I said with my own small smile. I shrugged when he didn't get the reference. "They're the only arms I've got."

I was actually very glad that my Golden Glorfy was able to joke; it was a sign that he wasn't seriously hurt. His hand though…I'd have to take a better look at it when our lives weren't in immediate danger.

On the way back down the outcrop, we killed some of the Orcs that hadn't been able to stand yet. No sense wasting an opportunity to lessen the Orcish population. It was a very long time after all of that that our battle was finally won; by us, that is. Until then, I didn't have the time or energy to wonder at the strange warmth that still inhabited my solar plexus, or for my darling to wonder about it either.

After some hours of cleaning up after the battle, and helping to bring in the wounded (and kill the wounded Orcs; no prisoners, no mercy), Sadoriel appeared from nowhere and told us to go rest. By then I was so desperate for a bath that when we got back to our tent, and I saw that someone had dragged in the big tub, I burst into tears.

There was a note on it from Fiona: _Hey! Elrond told me that I can't risk a good soak until my wounds heal, so I figured that you might be able to get some use out of the tub. Treat it well, for it is a godsend. Hope you enjoy, Fe._

"Look!" I said excitedly to Glorfy. "We can have a bath!"

For indeed, it's a bloody big tub. And it was already full with hot, steamy water…

This time, I certainly didn't argue when Glorfindel offered to bathe me.

* * *

We slept for the rest of the day, which was absolutely wonderful. Staying awake days at a time is really only something I save for those battles that can't be pushed back. I woke in what I think was the early evening.

I turned over in the nest of blankets and pillows and looked at my golden Elf. He was snoring – actually snoring! – peacefully, eyes half closed. It was the closest I'd actually seen him to sleeping with his eyes shut. I smothered the giggle that threatened to escape and propped myself up on one elbow.

Beautiful…as only a male can be beautiful. So many definitions of beauty…I can't put words around it. I stretched out my right hand to push a few strands of hair away from his face. He had taken the regimental braids out of his hair to let it hang forward…soft, wavy, golden hair…I sometimes forget that his name _means_ 'golden-haired'…

I don't ever want to forget this moment…I couldn't hear much noise from outside the tent, only the rippling fabric as the winds shook it. All I could smell were the sweet herbs they put in the water and the simple scent of _maleness _that my husband exudes. I can't really explain it…so I won't.

My hand left his face and travelled down his chin, down his neck and across his shoulders. Smooth skin…warm skin; flawless skin. Every muscle defined…downward my hand drifted until I reached his most ticklish spot, just above his hip. I risked a quick look at him to make sure that he hadn't woken from my caresses, and then very slowly began to trace small circles over his skin.

Shivers rippled up and down his skin. One arm jerked as though to move towards the invading touches, but stopped. He huffed and batted at me with his other arm. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh out loud. The circles became wider…and without warning, he snatched my hand.

Startled, I looked back up at him. His wondrous blue eyes were open fully now, narrowed at me playfully.

"What have I said about tickling me, wife?" he asked with a mock growl. Before I could even squeal, he flipped me on to my back and had both arms pinned against the ground with his left hand. His right was still in the rough bandage that had been applied earlier, but was looking much better. "Well?"

"Nothing that I immediately recall, _husband_," I said smugly. I enjoyed this game, no matter how many times we played it.

"Are you sure?" my husband asked with a decidedly wicked grin.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do recall a certain something…"

"Yes?"

I jerked and twisted as fast as I could, freeing both arms, much to his surprise. Both of my hands went for his ticklish spots, and I tickled him with a vengeance. He laughed in surprise and for a moment was too surprised to fight back…

And somehow, we weren't tickling each other any more…

I think I shall do the decent thing and insert the 'fade to black' line that will leave anyone who reads this (and who enjoys a certain level of smut) wondering just _what_ we did after that. Since I'm not that dirty (I swear!) I shall leave it up to your imaginations.

Afterwards, as my darling husband slept pillowed on my breasts, I waited until he was deep in dreams before I gently levered him off and rose. I stuck my head out through the partition only to find more hot steamy water in the tub. Marvellous! I took full advantage of it, because I know full well that that tub isn't going to be in my tent forever.

Elrond came in while I was bathing, but I didn't much care. I was up to my neck in hot water and besides; he's seen me naked anyway. That sounds horrible, but he was the one that put the dressings on me when I was out for all those days, and anyway, it's not as though it's anything new to him. He didn't even flinch when he saw me in the tub, so I didn't make a fuss. Besides…it's not as though he could really see anything.

I guess _seeing_ me naked and _knowing_ that I am naked are two different things, though, because he did go a little red. Professionalism battling with years of skin taboos, I guess.

"I heard that Glorfindel burned his hand," he said, staring straight a head. "I would like to examine the burn to see if it needs binding."

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him. "Don't you have minions, or something?"

"'Minions?'" He asked puzzled.

"Yeah. I just thought you'd be really busy, what with wounded people and all. But you come every time we're hurt, even if it's just a little bump. I figure, you've got to have minions or else you wouldn't have any time to come visit. Otherwise, you'd just send them instead."

"I would have not described those under my authority 'minions', Lady Minaimîr. More like –"

"Underlings?"

He sighed. "If you believe so."

"Coo," I said, and leaned back in my tub. "Glorfy's asleep, though. I can wake him, if you want."

I smiled to myself, content in the knowledge that my husband was only asleep because I had thoroughly tired him out. Hee hee hee.

"Let him rest," Elrond said with a shake of his head. "But if the Lady permits, I will visit for a while. My 'minions' have everything under control."

I smiled up at him and realized that not once had he looked directly at me. "No probs, Elrond. I enjoy your company." I gestured at the chair by the desk. "Please sit. I'd offer tea, but I don't think that anyone in this world has any."

"Tea?" Elrond looked surprised as he sat down. "Of course we have tea. Many different kinds, in fact. Do you wish that I send for some?"

"Don't go out of your way," I said, feeling a little guilty. Here I am, playing hostess for the first time, up to my neck in bathwater and with no tea to offer the guest. My Welsh ancestors would be ashamed of me.

"If my lady wishes it –"

"Stop, Elrond. We both know I'm not anything that closely resembles a Lady."

"But, you are sister to the Queen –"

"And I'm up to my neck in bathwater. So relax! This is a visit, not an interview."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two as Elrond fished around for a topic. A few times he looked about to say something, but would glance up at the flaps separating the antechamber from the inner sanctum.

"Out with it, Herald," I said with a grin. "You've got something on your mind."

"I was wondering if you would permit me," Elrond began, "to ask questions about your history."

My eyes widened, but I supposed this really wasn't an inappropriate question. For one, I think that's it's a good thing that I managed to go for so long without anyone asking me too much about my past. In fact, that interrogation that Glorfindel gave me the first night we where here was pretty much the last time that anyone had asked.

"What do you want to know?" I wondered. "I don't remember much." That wasn't entirely true…but I must confess something. My memories have been getting fuzzier…fading. I'm absolutely terrified that I'll forget things like, what my mother's face really looks like, or the sound of my father's voice. "It was so long ago, now," I said, almost to myself. "So long ago it seems almost like a dream…"

I was struck then with a sudden burst of homesickness. Around the constricting of my throat I tried to tell Elrond that maybe this wouldn't be such a good subject after all. For now, anyway.

"I understand, Minaimîr," he said gently. "I haven't seen my brother for a very, very long time now."

I nodded, because I didn't trust myself to speak just then. The desire to see my mum and dad just then…to talk to them one last time…to even just be in their physical presence…

"So," I said when I could speak again. "How come you appear to be our personal physician?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, like I said earlier, you do turn up whenever Glorfindel or I have injured ourselves in some way…that's why I asked you about minions."

"But the High King has placed you and your sister under my care," Elrond said, slightly confused. "It has always been so, since you first arrived. He trusted no one else."

"But…don't you have other patients?"

"Of course. The High King himself, your husband; Gildor and a few others. Mostly, however, my duties are elsewhere, such as with the archives."

"Oh." I really couldn't think of anything else to say to that.

It was right about then that Fiona stuck her head in the tent flaps and grinned at the sight before her.

"I see you're making good use of that tub," she said. Her eyes flickered to Elrond as he stood from his chair rather quickly. "Hello, Elrond. Fancy seeing you here."

Elrond bowed in her direction.

"My Queen," he said. "I did not expect you."

Fiona stepped the rest of the way into the tent, followed, as always, by Berialagor. I noted that she was limping slightly.

"How's the leg?" I asked.

She shrugged. "As well as can be expected, considering I had a spear through it."

"Marvellous!" I grinned.

"Please, your Majesty, sit." Elrond indicated the chair he had just vacated.

"Thank you," Fiona said gratefully. She sighed as she took the weight off her wounded leg. "I would give anything to be able to soak my leg in that tub," she said regretfully, "but unfortunately I can't risk softening the skin around my wound. A good hot bath will have to wait."

"Speaking of a good hot bath, anyone feel like dumping some more hot water in here?" I asked, leaning back.

"Get it yourself," Fiona replied with a grin of her own.

"I would, but I can't reach. And I'm not about to expose the Twins to this cold air." Actually the air in Mordor is quite warm. It also smells bad. I suppose it's to be expected, with all the volcanic activity, but still – blech! "Besides…I'm pretty sure it would be frowned upon, me flashing the Queen, and all."

"Suit yourself."

"I will get it," a new voice said. My golden Glorfindel emerged from the Inner Sanctum, wrapped securely in robes. There was a large split down the front where the robe closed, open down most of his chest…gorgeous. "My Queen," he said with a bow. "Forgive my appearance."

Fiona waved her hand dismissively, but looked away to give Glorfindel a little privacy. My eyes narrowed a little. It's rather surprising how much Fiona has changed since we got here. But then…maybe it's just that, after seeing so much carnage and nastiness, one Elf in a dressing robe really isn't that shocking.

I sighed contentedly as Glorfindel poured a bucket of hot water into the tub. It had been waiting near the partition.

_You look damn sexy in that robe_, I murmured into his mind.

_None of that, _melyanna. _Now is not the time for roguish thoughts._ He planted a quick kiss on the top of my head.

"If my Lady and my Queen will excuse me, I shall clothe myself more appropriately." He bowed and backed up towards the partition. "Lord Elrond," he said with a nod. Glorfindel vanished behind the partition.

"He's looking a lot better," Fiona commented. "I saw you two earlier today. You looked about ready to fall down."

"It was a rough morning," I answered gravely. Try as I might, I just can't be as cheerful when talking about battles. I try, because it's better than going mad from the imagery, but…when this is over, I'm going on a vacation to Lothlórien.

"What happened to his hand?"

It is not that I wanted to deliberately withhold information – but Elrond looked suddenly interested, and even Berialagor perked up from her position by the door. I hadn't had time to give any thought to my strange experience of the morning. In fact, I had put it right out of my mind for the sake of sleep and other fun activities. So I squirmed a little.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I didn't see how it happened. One minute there was lightning striking the Orcs, and the next…he was lying on the ground with burnt fingers and a wicked case of flash burn."

_I saw,_ Glorfindel said within my mind. _I feel that you do not wish to share this information as yet, else I would speak aloud. But I saw what happened_

_Later, my lovely_, I said.

"I would like to examine his hand, if he permits," Elrond said.

"I do permit," Glorfindel answered, coming out of the Inner Sanctum. He was dressed in a forest green tunic with silver trim and brown leggings. It was a variation on what he usually wore under his armour, and it looked absolutely gorgeous on him. There was a slight bell on the cuff of his sleeve…I've heard it said that bell sleeves on a guy just looks feminine…but then, people who say things like that have never seen Glorfindel wear them. I don't think he could look 'feminine' if he tried.

Elrond removed the hasty bandage that had been wrapped around Glorfy's right hand and I winced at the sight of singed flesh. I was not alone in my reaction. Fiona turned her head away and looked a little ill, but it did not last long. She schooled her features and turned back. This time, she did not flinch.

I covered my own right hand in sympathy, and felt the slight scar on the back of it. Ah…I'd forgotten it was there! My very first battle scar, from Lick-me's training session. I recalled the look of worry on Glorfindel's face when he bound it before my first big battle…how I'd thought that his concern was the wishful thinking of a fanfiction-addicted Tolkien nerd…and felt a nearly overwhelming wave of love and affection from Glorfy that made me smile.

"The scars will not be permanent," Elrond pronounced after a quick examination. "But you will need to bind it again with more ointment for two more days, and then expose the flesh to air to allow it to heal properly."

Glorfindel nodded. Elrond added something quickly in Elvish and I frowned, thinking I'd recognized a word or two. Not many, and only simple ones like 'me' and 'how'. I think, anyway. When you've been around Elvish as much as I have, you do tend to pick up a little of it. Even so, my understanding of it is far from complete.

Glorfy shook his head and responded in rapid Elvish as well. From his tone, I'm guessing it was "I'll tell you later."

In the mean time though…

"Ereinion has assigned us new jobs," Fiona said conversationally.

"Oh, really? Time for us to be useful in between battles?" I smiled, and Fiona grinned back.

"It appears so. During the last attack, the Quartermaster lost some of his staff. I volunteered us to help pick up the slack until more suitable people can be found."

"Bloody hell. Aren't all the lists in Elvish though?"

"Yeah. That's a good thing, though – we need to learn how to write the language."

"Good point."

"We're to report to Narwanár tomorrow after breakfast, barring any further attacks."

I groaned. This meant that I actually had to get up in the morning. My twin and I were silent for a moment before another thought hit me.

"So. I hear your precognitive abilities have decided to start working."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "It's very hard to describe."

"I bet it is. Today, though…today…"I trailed off, not sure how to continue. But at that moment, Elrond and Glorfy rejoined the conversation.

"I'm afraid that it is time I returned to my duties," Elrond said. "It is nearly time for the evening meal, after all, and there is still much work to be done."

"Thanks for visiting, Elrond," I said from my spot in the still hot tub. "Come back to visit any time. And next time I'll be ready with tea."

"My thanks also, Lady Minaimîr. My Queen, my Lord Glorfindel. Berialagor," he acknowledged them all with a deep bow and left.

"I should be getting back to Ereinion," Fiona said with a sigh. "No doubt he has some accounts he wishes to teach me about."

"Sure," I said with a large, mischievous grin. "That's what he wants. Accounts. Right."

Fiona flushed beet red, but she didn't rise to the bait. "I'll see you later," she said with a grimace and stood stiffly. "Bye, Glorfindel."

Glorfy bowed in response.

When we were finally alone, I rose from the tub and stretched. My wonderful husband had the towel ready before I even had to ask for it, and I wrapped myself up in its soft folds and sighed.

"I'm tempted to go back to sleep," I said with a barely stifled yawn.

"I am also, but alas I cannot," Glorfindel said. "My duties await."

I reached down and picked up his wounded hand. "I'm glad this isn't too bad," I said, holding his hand gently. It was wrapped securely in soft bandages. I was struck then by how big his hands are. Both of mine are dwarfed by just one of his.

"I almost lost you today," he said softly. "So close…I saw your sword get knocked from your hand, saw you fall. But then…" he trailed off, and again I had the flicker of images in my mind. Again, I could make no sense of them. "The lightning came from nowhere," he said with a shake of his head. "I can make no sense of it."

I shook my head myself, and tried to project what I had felt earlier that day. I really don't have words adequate to explain what it was, how I _knew_ that the lightning was going to strike when it did…the warm fuzziness of…whatever it was that happened afterwards.

"I was nearly at your side when I saw you reach up towards the sky," Glorfy continued. "As you reached up, an arc of white light leapt from your hand and met its counterpart on the way down. It flickered…so hot! The very air cracked! I tried to pull you out of its path, but the searing heat of the light burned my fingers. You were struck by lightning, _melyanna_. It is a marvel that you are unharmed."

I looked up at my husband, not comprehending what he was saying. "Wait. I was…what?"

"The lightning engulfed you. I felt sure that you would be destroyed by it and despaired. But when I opened my eyes, there you were, leaning over me, calling me back from the brink where I sought you…" he trailed off.

"How…?" My mind would not give up the idea that I had been struck by lightning. "Why didn't it burn me?" I asked. I remembered the warm fuzziness and tried to imagine it hurting me. I was struck by lightning? Is that what happened?

"I do not know why it did not harm you," Glorfy answered, "but thank the Valar that it did not. As for why the lightning…chose you, I can only suspect that this is akin to your sister's sudden talent for precognitive visions."

"But why now?" I asked. "I don't get it."

"Perhaps, _melyanna_, this is not something that you are supposed to get."

Glorfindel would say no more on the subject, only held me close without a word. As it was, I don't think I could have stood to listen to another word about it anyway. Sometimes he knows just how to comfort me.

It frightens me how much I love him.

* * *

The next few days passed largely uneventfully. That's not to say that things weren't happening; just that most of what was happening was day-to-day activities and therefore very boring to write down.

Our jobs as Junior Quartermasters are progressing nicely. It's dull work sometimes, but it gives you something to do with your hands and also made me feel a little less useless. Also, my written Elvish has gotten to the point where I can almost make a series of squiggles that might, with a kind eye, be hinted at to be 'Minaimîr'. I've had to sign my name at the bottom of some inventory lists (especially requisition receipts, when new recruits show up looking for armour and bedding), and because I need to know how to write in Elvish, Narwanár suggested I sign my Elvish name. It's not so bad now, but the first few days I signed 'Rhiannon' without even thinking about it. Now I add 'Rhiannon' in brackets afterwards just in case no one can read my awful writing.

Fiona doesn't seem to be having this trouble. Her Elvish characters are sharp and clear. I think someone was probably teaching them to her before anyone thought to teach them to me. Or maybe it's just because she's Queen…

Whatever. It's unfair.

* * *

Well now…last week was…different. Seven whole days of…exercise… Seven days of appearing in the middle of councils to drag Glorfy away because if he didn't come _right then_ there would have been severe death. Seven days of pure hell. Seven days of pure heaven.

I can't really decide. It was a little of both.

One minute, I would be calm, collected…writing…and then the next…

Animal. Primal. Primitive. Whatever. Words that mean 'really, really bloody horny'. I was, as my (very exhausted) husband said, "insatiable." Poor guy…I vaguely remember a few times when other married Elves would give him pitying looks, while the Men around would grin and slap each other on the back and make lewd jokes. I know they were lewd jokes because men don't really do much else when an animalistic she-Elf comes storming into the command pavilion, grabs her husband by the arm and hauls him off. I heard rumours today that, after the first two days, Glorfy would actually beg someone to hide him.

Poor boy.

Thank goodness it's over now. You would not _believe_ how bloody sore I am right now. Unless you've gone through a week much like this one. To stretch my legs, and catch up on events, I went for a walk with Fiona and Berialagor today. Our men were off doing whatever the hell it is that they do, so I had time to find out a whole bunch of stuff.

"So Gilly had to make arrangements?"

"Yeah," Fiona answered. The stiffness was almost completely gone from her limbs. (Damn. This means I'll have to give the tub back soon.) "Half a dozen or so of some of the best healers were out of commission for as about the same amount of time as you were." She grinned.

"Don't start," I warned, my face going beet red. I know that grin. "Just you wait. It'll happen to you soon enough, and then you'll know _exactly _how it feels."

Fiona looked thoughtful for a moment, and then a series of emotions flickered quickly across her face and were gone. She's learning, very quickly, to hide her emotions. I guess that there are people out there who would try to take advantage of a Queen that is quick with her emotions…or too obvious with them. I'm going to have to learn some of this intrigue stuff.

"Funny how we all went through it at once though," I said a moment or two later.

"Yeah," Fiona agreed.

"Maybe it's one of those cyclical things; women getting in sync with one another or something."

"Maybe," Fiona agreed. She shrugged. "I'm just glad it missed me," she said wryly. "Ereinion is tired enough as it is."

"You'll get your turn," I said darkly, but with a huge grin. But I didn't get to say any more, because at that moment Fiona put her hand to her head and swayed a little.

"Whoa," she said. I put my hands out to steady her.

"Fe! You alright?" I asked at the same moment that Berialagor stepped forward.

"My Queen! I will have Elrond fetched at once."

"No, Berialagor," Fiona said, straightening up and shaking her head a little. "I'm alright. Just a little dizzy, that's all."

"You sure?" I asked and she nodded. "I think it's about lunch time anyway. Feel like dropping by the dinning tent for the stew of the day?"

"I think I'll have a meal brought to me," Fiona began.

"Oh no you don't," I said quickly. "You haven't been out of that tent in far, far too long. Foul as the air is around here, it's fresher than the stuff in your tent." She looked about to argue. "Besides," I added quietly. "If this lot of soldiers start wondering if you're sick their morale will drop. Can't have that happening."

I'd meant it as an incentive for Fiona to stay outside, but my words had a disturbing amount of truth to them. The air is foul here in Mordor, and I would have bet good money that my twin _really_ did not want to be around people just then. But after her wedding to Gilly, morale rose so high around here that the army carved its way to Mt. Doom in little over a week and with few casualties. Like it or not, Fiona had become a cause – rather, the symbol of a cause.

Fiona nodded. "To the dinning tent, then," she said. "Lets see if the chef has managed to come up with something edible."

I had to smile. It had been a while since we'd eaten proper food. I guess being in Mordor could be a big part of this.

"So, did you see the latest batch of reports?" Fiona asked while we walked.

"Yeah. If I see another reserve soldier looking for a uniform…"

"New recruits need armour too."

"I know, I know. Can you believe that the quartermaster forgot to order enough onions, though?" I said in a mockingly shocked voice. "I mean really, you can't have enough onions. Nope. Not this camp. No where near enough onions to go around."

Fiona laughed. "I thought you liked onion soup."

"Not when it's all you've had to eat for a week, breakfast, lunch and dinner," I said emphatically.

"I'm surprised you had time to eat this past week," Fiona said with a wicked grin.

"Oi! None of that!" I replied, face returning to its most uncomfortable shade of red.

Fe kept silent, but was grinning for all she was worth.

"I think I prefer a little meat in my diet anyway," I said eventually, deliberately trying to turn the conversation back to food. There were far too many people around for me to be too dirty.

"I would have thought a solid week of Glorfindel would have satisfied your craving."

"None of that, I said!"

Thankfully the dinning tent came into view and we found a table. We weren't there long before two elves appeared carrying bowls of stew and hunks of bread, a plate of cheese, three goblets, an ewer of wine and what appeared to be fruit. And utensils. Being sister to the Queen has its perks, I guess. I did feel like a bit of a ponce though, because I didn't wait in line like everyone else.

"How's Gilly doing these days?" I asked after we'd had time to dig in. I noticed happily that Fiona was eating with gusto. Looks like she was hungry after all.

"Not much," she replied after she'd swallowed. "The usual."

"Kingly duties and all that?" I asked.

"Yeah. I don't get to see him as much as I would like."

"You could always pretend to be going through your 'week'," I said with a grin. It was her turn to blush, and I wasn't disappointed.

"Hey!"

"What?" I asked innocently. "It's the perfect excuse." I ignored the sounds of Berialagor snorting her wine in shock.

"I am not going to pull him away from his duties just to…" Fiona stopped mid-sentence and frowned.

"Fe?" I said worriedly. "You've gone all pale."

"I feel…"

"My Queen, I insist that we return to your tent now," Berialagor said quietly, her previous distress completely forgotten. "I will have someone bring the food."

"No, it's okay…it'll pass, I just need to…"

But she didn't get to finish her sentence because her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped at the table. Berialagor and I got to her at the same time.

There were startled gasps around the dinning tent.

"You!" I pointed at the nearest Elf, a member of Fiona's guard who'd been surreptitiously guarding her from the next table over. "Fetch Elrond!"

He nodded and took off at a run.

I checked her pulse and breathing. Both were going strong. Thankfully she hadn't hit her head. "Help me get her up," I said. "We need to get her to her bed." Hooray for first aid training.

With Berialagor's help we stood Fiona up between us. Thankfully, her luxury tent (three rooms!) was not exceedingly far from the dinning tent so it did not take very long for us to reach it, the majority of her guard appearing from practically nowhere and forming a protective square around us. By that time, Fiona had started to come around.

"Let me sit," she said when we got through the flaps and into her antechamber. I helped her to a chair as Berialagor turned and stuck her head through the tent flaps. I heard her ask to have a pitcher of water sent.

"You alright?" I asked again. Damn it. So many people had seen her faint too. "There are going to be rumours everywhere now. Oh well…I'll see if I can spread a story that it was just the fumes in the air that made you dizzy. Hopefully that will work. Can't have everyone worried about their queen now, can we?"

She smiled wanly at me. "Thanks."

The water arrived at the same time as Elrond. In fact, he brought it in himself. Sadoriel appeared a moment behind him with some clean cloths and dipped them in water from the washing stand.

"Tell me what happened," Elrond commanded quietly.

"She passed out at the table," I answered. "She'd had a momentary dizzy spell not ten minutes before too, but I convinced her to get something to eat."

Elrond nodded absently. He frowned and put his hand to Fiona's forehead. "No fever," he said, almost to himself. He tilted up her chin and looked at each of her eyes. "No head wound," he murmured. He put a hand on either side of Fiona's face and concentrated for a moment.

He stood up an instant later, looking very grim.

"My Lady Minaimîr," he said quietly. "Please bring the High King to us."

"I would rather not leave her –" I began.

"Please, Minaimîr," Elrond said quietly. "This is a mission that only you can fulfill. I would send Berialagor, but I fear she has had orders not to leave the queen's side for any reason."

"Okay then. Don't worry, Fe," I added. "I'll be right back."

The command pavilion was not far from here, I thought. Though, it would look really stupid if I ran. Not stupid, actually. Just conspicuous. I just hoped Gilly was there when I got there.

I actually ran into him half way there.

"She's fine," I said when I reached him. "Elrond is with her now."

My brother-in-law looked subtly relieved. "Thank Eru."

"I think it was the air," I said, hoping that that was all it was. "It's smells pretty nasty around here."

"That it does," he agreed, without expression.

We walked side by side for a while. I think it's the first time I've been alone with him since we got to Middle-earth. I may just be paranoid, but I always get the feeling that he's not too thrilled to have me as a sister-in-law. Well…too bad. He's not getting rid of me.

After the most awkward two minutes of my life, we made it back to his tent.

"Elrond?" he asked as he stepped in the door.

"She is safe, my Lord," Elrond said quickly. I noticed that he'd sent Sadoriel out of the room; I hadn't seen her outside the tent so I assumed that she had been sent to fetch something. "A minor fainting spell, not caused by fever or poison."

"But caused by what?" Gilly wanted to know, face expressionless.

Elrond looked from Fiona to Gil-galad to me, and then glanced warily at Berialagor. He motioned us close, and we moved in.

"You may want to sit down, my Lord."

Turns out that I was the one that needed to sit down. Bloody hell.


	28. Settling into a new routine

Author's Note: Wow…long time since we updated this chapter. I can't offer anything but a heartfelt "Sorry" on that topic. I've had the majority of this written for months, but I had no decent ending for it, and finishing university so I could graduate this December was of the utmost importance, hence my fanfiction writing came to a complete stop for about three or four months. I'm terribly sorry about that, but I think you'll like this chapter, and hopefully it will have been worth the wait. I certainly tried to make it as long as I possibly could to make up for it, but still make it very interesting with lots of little juicy plot threads to keep you intrigued.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜ ˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

  
After our first night in Mordor, our lives fell more or less into a routine. Ereinion would normally awaken early get on with 'paper shuffling', often things that he hadn't finished the night before because he got distracted by me. I myself would get out of bed just in time to dress and have breakfast with him before we would go our separate ways – me, to the healers to learn the different herbs and their uses, and him to his advisors and commanders to learn if the enemy looked like attacking any time soon. He would have lunch in the command pavilion and I would have mine with the healers. I would spend an hour after lunch learning from Sadoriel. Those lessons basically consisted of everything from the foundations of Elvish history to etiquette and how to conduct myself like a proper lady. Thankfully once those lessons ended (I sometimes despaired I would ever get the hang of things!), she would help me change into tunic and breeches for my 'arts of war' lesson with Ereinion and Glorfindel.  
These lessons consisted of Minaimîr and I being taught archery and how to wield a sword properly by each of our husbands. At first it seemed strange to see Ereinion wielding a sword instead of his usual spear Aeglos. But Minaimîr and I took those lessons more seriously than any of the other ones we'd received so far, and that soon didn't matter so much as it did to perform the defensive manoeuvre exactly right.  
Our war lessons only ended when dinner started to be served. This could usually be accurately judged by observing the number of Elves who came to watch with a bowl of soup or stew in their hands so that they could eat while they watched us. I wished they wouldn't. I felt embarrassed enough about how bad my skills were already without having anyone else watching me.  
I was conscious of the fact that I had become an icon of sorts, a renewed hope for the soldiers in my husband's army. There was a lot of pressure on me to learn things fast and to perform them as perfectly as possible. Not to mention there was the ever lingering issue of the High King being still without an heir. I noticed on more than one occasion that some of the soldiers would try to be discreet in looking over my stomach for signs that I might be pregnant. Ereinion, if he was with me, would usually wrap his arm around me and hold me closer at that point.

After dinner, Sadoriel usually had a hot bath already prepared for me and I'd soak in that until the water became tepid. Every once in a while Ereinion would join me.

I don't think you need to know anymore than that to guess how our nights were usually ended before we went to sleep.

Once a week though, Ereinion would take me to the command pavilion and give me private lessons in battle strategy. It was nice for me to be able to ask questions without needing to feel stupid in front of his commanders. We'd continue those lessons until Ereinion judged me to be getting too tired, at which point we retired to our tent.

Funny how he thought I was too tired to study battle tactics anymore, but not too tired for other certain activities. Not that I was complaining, mind you…naughty grins

It was not quite seven weeks since my wedding, and I slept with the first real peace that I had felt since entering the desolate land of Mordor. Wrapped gently in my husband's arms, I knew that I was safe. That sense of security was short-lived, however, since I was soon awoken by another vision of foresight.  
I gasped, lifting my head from Ereinion's warm chest as I struggled to convince my body to leave his snug and welcoming embrace. Knowing through our bond that I had foreseen something, Ereinion too had woken from the path of dreams. _What is it?_ he asked quietly, shifting tiredly to let me roll over to one side, as I propelled myself into full alertness.  
_They're going to attack_, I replied uneasily. _Very soon. Sauron's planning to hit Thranduil's army the hardest – he'll massacre them if we do not warn them. Then he will turn to our armies. We're unprepared…the losses would be devastating._  
Grimly, Ereinion pushed back the blankets and stepped into his breeches. Following suit, I got out of bed and began quickly dressing.  
_What do you think you're doing?_  
I turned to see Ereinion glaring commandingly at me. I was taken aback by his question. _I have to help warn them-_  
_You need to stay where it is safe,_ Ereinion countered firmly. He glanced pointedly at the bed.  
It was my turn to glare at him. _If you think for one second that I am going to lie in bed while you-_  
_Anórmír! We don't have time to argue this-_  
_You will alert Círdan, Nîthion will alert Elendil and his sons, Sadoriel can inform the healers of the imminent battle and I will take my guards to warn Thranduil, _I interrupted impatiently. I gave Ereinion half a second to consider it before I added, _It's only logical._  
Though he thoroughly disapproved of the idea, Ereinion knew, as I did, that I was right. Thranduil would be more receptive to listening to me about this matter. Very reluctantly, Ereinion consented. _Be very careful, Anórmír,_ he warned.  
Since I didn't need to wear armour to deliver a message, I stepped into the antechamber and roused Nîthion, Berialagor and Sadoriel quickly giving them their instructions. Sadoriel disappeared immediately out of the tent. As Nîthion and Berialagor finished buckling on their armour with my help, Ereinion emerged from our bedchamber ready for battle.  
_Get moving, Anórmír,_ he ordered brusquely. I didn't take offence at his stern tone. I knew that he was anxious for me to complete my task and be safely back within his own protection once again.  
Berialagor and I slipped out of the tent and headed for Thranduil's tent will considerable speed. We did not run, since it would have attracted more attention than necessary, but it was certainly the fastest walk I'd ever taken.  
There was a small gap between Círdan's command and Thranduil's, but we crossed it without incident. My guards and I, cloaked and hooded as we were, attracted a few looks from the sparse number of wood Elves that were not on sentry or resting in their tents. As we approached Thranduil's tent, I briefly wondered how much time had passed already and how much longer we had before the orcs attacked.  
Thranduil had only two guards watching his tent. Two guards were all it took to delay us.  
"Would you kindly tell your King that Anórmír, wife of Gil-galad, urgently needs to speak with him," I requested quite firmly, struggling to keep my edginess from my tone. Here we were, short on time, being held up by stupid protocol!  
One of the guards gave a stiff nod of his head, clearly not liking the tone of my voice, and entered the tent, whilst his companion politely but resolutely kept us from intruding. Underneath my cloak, I crossed my arms to stop myself from fidgeting anxiously. I hoped the darkness was enough so that the remaining guard would not be able to see my scowl beneath my hood either.  
The guard came back after several moments that seemed to take an eternity. "The Queen may enter, but only with one of her guard," the Elf informed us pompously.  
I sensed my other four guards tense and prepare themselves to argue, but we had wasted enough time already so I said impetuously, "Fine. Berialagor, come with me." I hastened into the tent.  
Thranduil was standing by his desk, dressed only in tunic and breeches, when I entered the inner sanctum. "Queen Anórmír," he greeted casually. "I was most surprised when my guard told me you were here to see me. Can I offer you a glass of wine?"  
I shook my head impatiently. "No, thank you."  
Pouring a glass for himself, he asked, "Then what brings you to my camp at such an unusual hour, Your Majesty?"  
"Sauron's preparing to attack very soon," I said bluntly. "If my vision is correct, he plans to strike your army hardest of all before he turns to the others, Your Highness," I added, remembering to use the appropriate formality.  
Thranduil's manner became immediately business-like. He put his glass on the table. "How soon?" he asked solemnly.  
"Any time now-" The words had barely left my mouth than I blinked and in that moment I foresaw the large boulder hurtling through the air to land smack in the middle of Thranduil's tent… Pulling my mind back to reality, I reacted immediately. "Get to the walls!" I ordered, reaching forward to grab his sleeve and drag him to the tent side that I knew would be furthest away from the impact zone.  
Berialagor pushed us both to the wall just as the tent roof collapsed in, causing the tent poles to break and the tent collapse all around us, surrounding us in darkness. I heard the sounds of fabric been ripped and was soon being pulled out of the fallen tent by my guards who had remained outside. Thranduil, likewise, had been cut from the wreckage and pulled out by his own guards. Thranduil gave them hasty orders, and they left, before he turned to me.  
"I hope you'll excuse me, Your Majesty. There are pressing matters I need to oversee, you understand," he remarked with an air of dry humour. To my guards he said, "Get her back to the safety of her husband's tent."  
I didn't have time to feel irritated by his orders (when will people give me some credit for intelligence?), since my guards had already moved to do just that. I was hustled in the direction of the main camp of the Elves, my guards forming a tight group around me.  
As we moved, we saw Thranduil's Elves yelling and running towards the frontline all around us.

By the time we reached the short gap between Thranduil and Cirdan's camps, the battle was in full swing on all sides. The orcs were quite close to where we were about to cross. Berialagor hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether to risk crossing here or if it would be safer to take me further out of reach before crossing.  
The orcs made the decision for her. They surged forward, forcing Thranduil's and Círdan's armies aside to run unchecked down that gap towards us. Berialagor and my guards unsheathed their swords, even as they propelled me forwards, hoping to reach Círdan's camp before they engaged the orcs in battle, though I did not know what good it would do. There were none in Círdan's camp nearby that could come to our aid; they were all at the front, fighting.  
We were only a few yards from the nearest tent when the orcs caught up to us. Surrounded as I was by my guards, I could not run, even if there had been a way through the swarm of orcs encircling us. I was nauseated by the severity of my situation; I was unarmed and without a means of escape. The presence of my guards meant that I was not defenceless, but they could only focus on fighting so many orcs at a time. They could not protect me against them all.  
An orc flung itself forward, creating a rift between two of my guards – I couldn't see who – that was just enough for other orcs to get behind the defence perimeter my guards had set up around me. Grabbing the blade off a dead orc, I took up my place in the ensuing battle.

Not so surprisingly, Minaimîr arrived soon after and began hacking at orcs at a rapid pace. Glorfindel should be proud of the way she held her sword and fought. It may not have been perfect, but she looked darned good at it to me.

We couldn't seem to cut down the orcs fast enough to make those final yards within Círdan's camp. Minaimîr and my guards fought desperately to force the orcs back at least long enough so that I would be spared from using my temporary sword, but to no avail. Mentally, I swore that I didn't care what Ereinion said or what anyone thought, I was going to keep a sword at my side permanently from then on. From the corner of my eye, I saw some of Círdan's people cutting their way through the orcs towards us as well.  
Relief rushed through me but my elation was premature and short-lived. In that moment of distraction, an orc had circumvented my guards' lethal blades and swung its sword at me before I realised it was there. I leapt back, stumbling on the corpses littering the ground, but not before the orc's blade slashed through my left upper arm. I cried out in pain. Falling backwards, I obtained further cuts and bruises from the discarded weapons of the dead. Even as I dropped my sword and grasped the bleeding wound on my arm, I felt a spear cut painfully through my right thigh.  
Remembering the battle, I looked up and saw that Minaimîr had savagely done away with the orc who had wounded me and found that Círdan's Elves had finally reached us. Cursing myself for forgetting the battle and putting myself in danger by dropping my weapon, I crawled to my feet and, limping, made my way into Círdan's camp as the orc numbers rapidly thinned.  
Berialagor, ever aware of where I was and what I was doing, was by my side in a heart beat and lead me through the Shipwright's camp to the main pavilion of Ereinion's own camp. As we stopped so that she could open the tent flap, I quickly glanced around and made sure all four of my other guards were still with me and not badly injured before I let her push me inside and set me on a stool. Minaimîr had stayed to battle the orcs.  
"Let me look at that," Berialagor instructed, pulling my hand away from the profusely bleeding wound in my arm. I was thankful that she didn't berate me for not jumping out of the way quickly enough. "You'll need to see a healer, but they'll have worse patients than you to tend to over the next few hours."  
"I'll be fine," I assured her, rueful of the fact that I had managed to obtained such injuries. Ereinion was not going to be pleased.  
Berialagor found some strips of fabric that she could use as bandages and wrapped them around the wounds on my arm and thigh. The bleeding slowly ebbed. Nevertheless, the blood was evident on the bandages by the time Ereinion and his commanders returned to the main pavilion.  
"Anórmír," Ereinion said in surprise when he first saw me. He quickly took in my battered appearance and his expression soured to a reprimanding look of disapproval. _I thought I told you to take care and stay out of the battle!_  
He hadn't actually told me to stay out of the battle, just to take care, but I didn't think he'd appreciated me being pedantic about it now. _The battle started a little earlier than we anticipated. The orcs got through the gap between Thranduil's and Círdan's camps. We got caught there. It couldn't be helped, Ereinion._ I quickly filled him in, flashing images from my memory into his mind.  
Ereinion sighed and took his place next to me. "You are not badly injured?" He eyed the bloodied bandages. _Regardless, you should be more careful now…_  
Though he didn't say it, I knew what he was thinking and I managed to restrain myself from glaring at him, which might have dared him to add those words that he had carefully left off his sentence.  
"I'll live," I told him. "It looks worse than it actually is."  
"I sent Rúmion to the healers, but there were none to be spared, my Lord," Berialagor reported.  
Ereinion nodded. "I would expect as much." He glanced at me before taking his usual place around the table to wait for the reports to come in. My husband seemed content to allow me to stay by his side for the moment.

That was how I was present when Ereinion's quartermaster, Narwanár, entered the tent covered with bandages and wounds to announce grimly that several of the Elves who helped him keep track of the supplies and such like had been killed. He didn't give the specifics, but it didn't really matter how they had died, so much as it did that they were now gone and Narwanár would need help.  
I felt Ereinion push aside his grief for the loss of his people's lives and knew that at the same time he was silently contemplating what to do now.  
"Ereinion?" I interrupted softly. No sooner than the words left my mouth than I silently cursed myself for saying it aloud. I should have spoken within our mind-link before I said anything within the hearing of Ereinion's commanders and advisors.  
Ereinion turned to look at me.  
Too late to back down, I tried not to sound timid as I said, "I can still write…and I am not doing anything particularly useful at the moment…even if it's only temporary, I could help Narwanár."  
Ereinion considered it for a second before turning to Narwanár. "Would you accept the help of my Lady for the time being?"  
Narwanár, usually a solemn Elf, gave a weary smile. "The Lady has spoken…and I would be glad for her help."  
"Send a messenger and see if Minaimîr is not other wise engaged," Ereinion suggested. "This is a useful occupation for her time also."

So that was how I found my position within the Last Alliance. It was a little hectic at first, especially since Minaimîr and I had to use our link to our husbands to understand a lot of what was written (it was all in Elvish, of course), but we quickly picked things up and were able to read and write well enough to cope. Narwanár, as I had already noted, was a solemn Elf for most of the time, but working with us produced more smiles to his face (sometimes he tried to turn away to hide it from us) than I had ever seen on him before as our quick wit knocked him over.  
It was three days after the battle, however, that Minaimîr arrived at the quartermaster's tent rather squeamish. She couldn't sit still for a second. Anyone would have thought she had fire-ants in her underwear.  
Narwanár and I tried to pretend nothing was wrong (after being snapped at for asking what was wrong, wouldn't you?) but it was just before lunch that my Elvish sister cracked it. She threw the quill onto the desk and stood up. "That's it!" she declared in an irate tone as though we had done something totally wrong. "I'm going to find Glorfy!"  
I exchanged puzzled glances with Narwanár, who gestured that I could leave to find out what was wrong with my sister. I hurried out of the tent and in the direction of my sister, my baffled guards surrounding me quickly as I tried to catch up to Minaimîr. I sent a mental warning to Ereinion about her imminent arrival once I realised where she was heading.  
I entered the main pavilion of my husband's camp to find the answer to my sister's strange behaviour.

Once Minaimîr had Glorfindel in her sights, she marched up to him and grabbed hold of his arm and said bluntly, "You. Bed. NOW."  
"Oh," I murmured, stepping aside so that Minaimîr could drag a bewildered and blushing Glorfindel out of the tent. The guards either side of the tent door held the flap open just long enough for me to see my sister and her husband hurrying in the direction of their tent.  
I looked back at the somewhat shocked gathering of my husband and his council. "Was that…?" I bit my lip, regretting having started to ask such a personal question.  
"Aye," Elrond confirmed. That the person who had explained the 'nature of Elves' to us said it, I knew that he had understood my question and was equally answering it.  
I struggled to control my expression as I tried desperately to suppress a giggle and a blush at the same time. Instead I looked down and chewed on my lip, my eyes almost watering with the effort. Ereinion strolled over and shielded me from the others in the tent, sparing me some of the embarrassment. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder (which was a little uncomfortable, what with his armour and all).  
Someone entered the tent behind me. "Oh, not another one!" Serkewen blurted out in frustration. Startled, I turned around as she surveyed at Ereinion and I. Serkewen held Ereinion's gaze. "There's been a sudden outbreak of married Elven women desiring their husbands-" Ah! So there is a 'nice' way of putting it…I still prefer the term Minaimîr and I invented for it though – 'horny week'. Serkewen continued. "For the ones who are not currently in bed with their husbands, they are becoming increasingly aggravated and it will not be long until they go in search of their husbands as well – but there is nowhere for the couples to go! Such private rooms as we knew of are all taken by now." She eyed my blushing cheeks and looked back up to my husband. "You'd better get her to your tent before she starts-"  
"I'm FINE!" I replied a little more loudly than I intended. Calming down so that I could prove my point, I continued on in a more measured tone, "I am only here because I followed my sister out of concern that she was behaving so strangely. I wish someone had told us before of the symptoms she was having…her snippy mood might have made more sense then."  
Serkewen raised an eyebrow, first at me then Ereinion.  
"I think it would be best if you were to wait in our tent anyway," Ereinion decided at last. "I will send someone to inform Narwanár where you have gone and that you will not be able to assist him for the rest of the day. I am sure Sadoriel has something else she would like to teach you."  
I resisted the urge to sigh aloud as Berialagor escorted me out of the tent. To this day, I'm not quite sure why he did that. I would have been perfectly fine going back to Narwanár and continuing on with my paper shuffling. He knew I was not in the least bit danger of having my 'horny week' since I was already pregnant at that point. Maybe it was so that everyone would think it was a 'just in case' sort of situation.

Regardless of reason, sitting on the bed in my husband's tent, even with Berialagor and Sadoriel for company, is a boring occupation of anyone's time. There's no news or gossip, no usefulness in anything I do. There's nothing to do and nothing in particular that we can discuss to take my mind of the bizarre situation in which every married Elf-woman in the camp suddenly has her 'horny week', excepting the one who was already pregnant – me.  
Sadoriel was trying to engage my interest in practising my grasp on the Elvish language, but having my concentration divided in two places became too much and I began to feel rather light-headed. Sadoriel quickly noticed that I wasn't going to be distracted and instead, lead me to my bed and lay me down, retrieving my comb so that she could brush my hair.  
Slowly, I drifted off into a restless sort of sleep that lasted only until Ereinion entered the room to take me to the dining tent.  
With gossip travelling faster than a crossbow bolt, I pretended not to see the disappointed looks on the faces of the soldiers when they saw that I wasn't in the midst of my 'horny week'. I overheard one Elf trying to reassure his companion that it must be my youth that prevented me from sudden 'outbreak' which had suddenly affected every other married female Elf in the camps.  
The rest of that week passed in a series of small interesting events. I continued to help Narwanár with the paper shuffling involved in dealing with supplies. I heard from several others, mostly my husband, of Minaimîr's frequent interruptions whenever Glorfindel somehow managed to escape her clutches. Ereinion tried to hide his amusement, because – as I had already instinctively known – it's impolite to laugh at an Elf during her 'horny week' because she's not very much in control of her actions, but I could tell he was finding it quite funny. I hoped my own 'horny week', whenever it comes after my child is born, would not be quite as embarrassing. Minaimîr can get away with it, but as Queen I'm supposed to be a little more…composed, regardless of the situation.

The next incidence of small interest, however, landed at _my_ door, with myself being thrown unwillingly into the spotlight. I'm rather embarrassed about it, so I'll cut straight to the point. I fainted in the dining tent.

I don't recall what happened next as even my usual gift of Sight failed me. When I awoke, I was no longer in the dining tent, but being carried by Berialagor and my sister Minaimîr. "Let me sit," I said in a weary voice as I slowly regained full consciousness.  
"You alright?" I heard Minaimîr say as they helped me into the study room and then to sit on Ereinion's chair. I know she said something as well, but I couldn't grasp her words. "…we can't have everyone worried about our queen now, can we?"  
"Thanks," I murmured, more out of habit than because I knew what she'd said. I know that it might have been something to reassure me though.  
By the time I was starting to feel a little more like myself, Elrond arrived with a bowl of water, which Sadoriel took from him and placed on the desk. Using a cloth, Sadoriel immediately started dabbing the cool water on my face and neck.  
"Tell me what happened," Elrond commanded quietly.  
It was Minaimîr who answered him. "She passed out on the table. She'd been a bit dizzy about ten minutes before that, but I'd convinced her to get something to eat."  
Elrond nodded as he stepped in front of me and felt my forehead with his hand. It made me think of the number of times my mother had done that while I was a child. I pushed the thought aside before I could be overcome with homesickness again.  
"There's no sign of a fever," he concluded. He gently tilted my head upwards, gently searching for a bump or bruise on my head with his hands and eyes. "And there's no head wounds…" He placed a hand on each of my cheeks and held my head steady as he looked into my eyes and concentrated.  
After a moment, he blinked and I saw the hidden surprise that his eyes betrayed but his face did not. I don't know how, but it suddenly occurred to me that he had just discovered that I was pregnant.  
He stood up straight and turned to my sister. "Lady Minaimîr, please fetch the High King."  
"I would rather not leave her-" she began hotly.  
Elrond's voice was a little more firm but still calm as he interrupted her. "Please, Minaimîr. This is a task only you can undertake. I would send Berialagor, but I fear she has already been given orders not to leave the queen's side for any reason."  
Minaimîr seemed a little stunned by that, but she understood and immediately gave a nod of her head. "Ok. Don't worry, Fe," she added to me, just before she left. "I'll be right back."

I couldn't help smiling at my sister's concern. I was now feeling well again, if only a bit nervous that now someone else apart from Ereinion and myself knew about my pregnancy.  
We waited in silence until my sister returned with my husband. The only infringement on the silence was my sigh. Elrond looked at me, his face unreadable.

To occupy my boredom, I searched for Ereinion with my mind. It seemed Minaimîr had met up with him on his way here. Not that it surprised me that my husband had known I fainted. _I think Elrond's just discovered our little secret_, I warned Ereinion.  
Though Ereinion did not reply, I felt his mental acknowledgement all the same. He seemed a bit grim, as well for some reason.

"Elrond?" he queried the moment he stepped into the study.  
Elrond was quick to reassure him that I was not in any danger. "It was a minor fainting spell, but it was not caused by fever or poison."  
"Then what caused it?" Ereinion asked. I noticed that he was keeping a carefully neutral expression, far more than usual.  
Elrond took a deep breath and said softly, so that everyone had to move closer to hear him, "You may want to sit down, my Lord."  
Ereinion nodded, as Elrond confirmed our suspicions. "Then it happened because Anórmír is pregnant," my husband surmised.  
Elrond seemed just as shocked as Berialagor and Minaimîr were to hear him say it. "You already knew," Elrond accused.  
Ereinion and I exchanged small smiles as we reached to clasp our hands together. "Anórmír informed me soon after she conceived – not long before her vision about the last battle."  
Berialagor seemed palest upon hearing that news. "So…the High Queen was already pregnant when-" she broke off to moisten her dry lips and throat. "-when we crossed to King Thranduil's camp?" Her question implied that she wished to know whether I was already with child at the time that I was injured by orcs.  
"Aye," Ereinion said gravely. Berialagor's expression became one of anguish.  
Not knowing how to alleviate Berialagor's sense of failure, I added softly, "'Tis a boy."  
Elrond seemed to shift between joy and sadness. My sister, however, looked like she was about to faint herself. Instead, she settled for letting her legs buckle beneath her, bringing her abruptly to ground level.  
"You must speak of this to no one," Ereinion warned them all. "Anórmír and I will inform those who need to know about her condition. But if the Enemy were to find out…"  
"I get the picture," Minaimîr assured him, as though his warning had been intentionally directed at her. I wished I could have told her that he had been generally speaking in regards to his caution.  
"Should I arrange for the High Queen's departure?" Berialagor asked Ereinion. Her shame at not having protected me from all harm, seemed only to have doubled since finding out that I was 'knocked up' at the time.  
"Departure?" I repeated in alarm.  
"No." Ereinion said firmly. "Anórmír must stay."  
"Anórmír must have her husband's support in bearing the child," Elrond sighed in agreement. I could tell by his tone of voice that I would later face him in argument when he judged that the benefits of Ereinion's support were not as great as the danger I would be in if I were to remain. But for the moment, Elrond was on my side and I would be grateful for his aid. "Anórmír is too young to be trying to sustain both the body and spirit of the babe without Gil-galad's strength to help her. She would fade and die before the babe could be delivered, if we were to send her away now."

Eeeep! I think someone might have forgotten to mention that to me beforehand!

With that clarified, I felt fear grip my heart. I'd already been nervous about the idea of having to be separated from Ereinion before I was pregnant, but now it was almost as though an internal panic had set in that was simply waiting until it was definite that I had to go before becoming visible to anyone else.  
Ereinion lifted my hand and lightly kissed it in reassurance. _You need not fear. I will allow nothing to cause you any harm._  
"It will be impossible to hide for very long," Berialagor advised. "The soldiers already watch the Queen closely for any sign that she might be with child. Any change we make to the Queen's activities are bound to attract attention and speculation, not to mention that in time her pregnancy will become obvious."  
Ereinion inclined his head in acknowledgement. He bowed his head, thinking.  
"I can write to Lady Tinnulin, requesting gowns of a looser style for the Queen to wear that would help to hide the Queen's abdomen as it grows," Sadoriel put forward. "I am sure I can come up with plausible reason for the request to Lady Tinnulin. The only problem would be coming up with a reason for the soldiers to hear about the Queen's sudden change of wardrobe. It would help if her activities could be stated as a reason, if anyone can come up with a suggestion."  
Ereinion nodded in agreement. "Anórmír will have to stop her war lessons," he added. "If we fill in that time with something else, it will gather less notice if she no longer wears tunics and breeches."  
I couldn't help noticing the sudden relief he felt upon saying that. I was annoyed that he had finally gotten his way, since I had just been getting good enough to actually join the battles. All those lessons with Sadoriel had helped me to keep control of my expressions however, and I kept my face to a carefully neutral expression.  
With a sigh, I suggested, "More lady lessons? Perhaps fill some of the time in with more lessons in reading and writing the Elvish tongues? If anyone asks, tell them that I was worried that I wasn't learning how to be a proper Queen or something. It's only a small stretch of the truth."  
I found myself subjected to sympathetic smiles from not only my husband, but Elrond, Sadoriel and Berialagor as well. They knew only too well that I had been thrust into this position with little warning and without the knowledge of how to 'play the part' appropriately. On several occasions when I had been speaking to each of them privately, they had all reassured me that I was doing well. No matter what they said though, I was all too aware that I wasn't quite what was expected and that I had a lot to live up to as Ereinion's bride and Queen.  
Ereinion kissed my hand again. He knew exactly what I was feeling at that moment and I could sense his pride as well. He had not truly wanted to be King, particularly not since it had meant the deaths of his grandfather, father and uncle that made him King. He had accepted it nonetheless, and for love of him, I would do the same. Ereinion cherished the strength I showed each day to stand up beside him.  
"Yes, that would be best. You could also work more with Narwanár, I know how much work he gets. Narwanár's former apprentice was in charge of decoding messages that we steal from our enemies, and since you have shown a great aptitude for quick-learning, I imagine you would do well in that position. Even without the war lessons, you will find your days every bit as occupied as before." He smiled at me.  
In recent weeks, he'd given up the idea of trying to send me to the healers – I was much better at organising and writing than I had been at healing, and I had enjoyed my work as the quartermaster's assistant. It had surprised Ereinion but he had quickly accepted the truth of the matter and encouraged me to persist in my studies and duties therein.  
Ereinion suddenly became grim and stern as he added, "I am going to insist that you rest when you need to and not to push yourself. It will not be good for the baby _or_ for your own health. I give Berialagor and Sadoriel full leave to recall you to our tent for rest and relaxation if they think that you need it."  
Berialagor and Sadoriel nodded keenly. I had little doubt that they would indeed use that authority to its fullest if I wasn't careful. My acting skills needed a bit more polishing if I was going to fool those two…  
"Elrond," Ereinion turned to his herald. "Once a week, I would like you to come here under the guise of needing to discuss a matter with me, but in truth I would like you to check up on Anórmír's progress and make sure both she and the baby are well."  
Elrond bowed solemnly. "Of course, my Lord."  
Since everything seemed to be decided, I glanced at Rhiannon who still hadn't gotten to her feet yet. "I recommend that Minaimîr has a glass of water before she attempts to leave, lest Glorfindel think we have neglected her," I said.  
Everyone smiled, Rhiannon's smile slightly goofy and lop-sided. Elrond and Sadoriel helped her to her feet, before we all dispersed to begin our assigned tasks.

Ereinion smoothly eased me out of fighting lessons, which wasn't hard considering the amount of work the quartermaster had to deal with. My grasp of Elvish improved out of sight, especially since Sadoriel helped to educate me more in my spare time, often deciding that practising Elvish would be better for me than continuing lady lessons (mostly on days where I was feeling irritable).  
Sadoriel's request to Lady Tinnulin came through and before it became apparent to all that their wish for an heir had been granted, I switched to wearing the flowing gowns that helped to hide any evidence of my pregnancy.

I want it noted that Ereinion liked when I began wearing those dresses too. It meant that I no longer wore tunics or breeches, but was always dressed in beautiful gowns, because of which Sadoriel insisted I must wear just a hint of make up as well. I argued with her that I was already going to look out of place in the gown when we were surrounded by warriors, but Sadoriel merely raised an eyebrow at me and gestured to the chair.  
"Sit," she said simply. I swear I never knew what an iron will my usually gentle lady-in-waiting had. "I will not have people thinking that our Queen is not being properly cared for by her handmaiden."  
I felt very sour at hearing that. It didn't help that Berialagor was trying desperately not to crack a smile in the background.  
Nevertheless, I grew used to it and even felt as though it helped to create the mask of serenity that I was always supposed to show to everyone. This was especially useful when I was feeling miserable.

The weeks rolled by and my stomach soon had an undeniable bulge to it. It was hard not to press a hand to my belly to remind myself that I wasn't just dreaming it all. I think Narwanár might have suspected the truth after he caught me rubbing my stomach slightly one time. He and I both acted like nothing had happened, but it was clear by the smile I saw flittered across his face as he turned away and the relief in his eyes that he had figured out why I might be doing that. He never said anything to me, and I knew that we could trust him not to say anything to anyone else. I did inform Ereinion just in case though.  
Rhiannon also discovered some unexpected events, least of which was an ability to control lightning. Remind me not to annoy her. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of one of those bolts…

I was five months pregnant as humans count months, when the call for battle sounded. Narwanár and I looked up briefly from our work, exchanged grim glances and then continued writing. There was nothing I could do to help them.  
Narwanár finished what he was writing before coming over to my small desk. "My Lady," he greeted. "I'm going to go and see what the situation is for supplies in Thranduil's camp. If they need something, we'll have to request additional supplies on top of what we've already asked for from Lindon."  
I nodded. Since the incident in which I had warned Thranduil of the imminent attack upon his camp in particular, he had become considerably more co-operative with the rest of the Alliance.

So it was that Narwanár was absent when a young healer came to obtain more bandages and herbs that we had stocked in our tent adjoining our 'office'.  
"Both the northern and southern healing stations have run out of bandages," the healer explained, panting.  
I dropped what I was doing immediately and guided her to the supplies where she rattled off a list of items needed. By the time I had finished gathering everything, there was enough for several trips already to each healing tent.  
"I'll go to the southern healing station, you go to the northern one," I directed, picking up a bag and stuffing bandages and herb jars into it.  
Berialagor, who had been silently keeping standing guard over me until that point, protested. "My Lady, it would not-"  
I spun around and glared her. "There's no time. I will be quick and it's well within our camp," I reminded her, perhaps a bit rudely. I softened my expression. "Please Berialagor."  
As the other healer left to accomplish her own task, Berialagor closed her eyes and turned her face skyward. "Elbereth help me," she sighed. She opened her eyes and turned to me. "It is not my place to stand in my Lady's way unless she is walking into deliberate danger."  
I flashed my protector a grin and grabbed the bag I had filled, hastily jogging out of the tent and in the direction of my destination, Berialagor just a step behind me. My other four guards were quick to catch up and surround us.

The first trip to the healing station was uneventful. So was the second. The third trip, even though there at least another two of those trips that I needed to make, ended up being the last.  
I was halfway there when I heard an awful voice in the air, just a murmur…a whisper that I alone could hear. "**Anórmír**," that terrible voice said.  
It was so disconcerting that I halted abruptly, and shuddered violently for a moment. When the feeling passed, I gasped for breath.  
"My Lady?" Berialagor queried, putting a hand on my back in reassurance.  
I looked up at Barad-dûr and froze in fear. For an instant I thought I saw the face of Sauron's helmet at one of the topmost windows, but it was gone so quickly that I couldn't be sure. I couldn't move though.  
I saw without really seeing the trebuchet launch its contents, the blazing ball of flame reaching over the battles and headed straight…for us.  
I remember hearing one of my guards yell and then felt myself being suddenly and forcibly propelled forward. I do not know why, but I cannot remember how far we got out of the path of the flaming boulder before it hit the ground. I only have vague recollections of the moment of impact itself. After that, I lapsed into complete unconsciousness.

It seems that something happened in that incident that let my mind wander in the present where my body could not. My next memory was seeing that orcs had somehow gotten a hold of my body and were carrying it towards Barad-dûr, whilst trying to fend off the Alliance and also trying not to let it be obvious that I was in their possession.  
The horror of that particular situation drove me into unconsciousness again, as my mind desperately told my body to fight back even though it seemed my conscious mind was not currently attached...  
I confess I do not entirely understand what was happening or why.

Later, I remember seeing Ereinion return to the command pavilion with his commanders and there was Narwanár, standing with his head bowed and his face grim.

**"Your Majesty," he half-greeted, half-apologised.  
"Narwanár," Ereinion said in surprise. But then I felt Ereinion connect his uneasiness to Narwanár's appearance in the command pavilion. "Is Anórmír well?"  
"I do not know, sire," Narwanár admitted, wincing slightly. "I left her in our office while I went to check supplies elsewhere and when I returned she was gone…"  
Ereinion's expression became grim. "What else do you know of the situation?"  
"I came to understand that the Queen was transporting healing supplies to the southern healing station of our camp, sire," Narwanár reported. "Only after the second time, she never arrived with the third load. The young healer I spoke to said that undoubtedly the Queen had come back and taken with her another load of supplies. But after the healer finished her run to the northern station, there were still two more loads left, so she took them and learnt what I have told you."  
"What of Anórmír's guards?" Ereinion demanded.  
"I have heard nothing of her guards, neither sight nor word of them has reached me," Narwanár confessed.  
At that moment, Tereva entered the tent, her face pale and concerned. "My Lords…" she began, but stopped uncertain of what to say. Seeing the quartermaster she murmured anxiously, "Dear Elbereth, Narwanár please tell me that the Queen is safe?"  
The eyes of every commander there opened wide in fear.  
"Tell me what you know," Ereinion requested, disguising his own fears well. I could feel the icicles of fear stabbing into his heart.  
"Four of the Queen's guards have appeared in our healing tent, seriously injured," Tereva informed them solemnly. "A fifth is dead, burned and crushed to death."  
Ereinion closed his eyes and clenched his fists. When he opened them, he turned to Elrond and Narwanár. "Find her," he ordered them in a voice that was barely above a whisper.**

It was at that point that I slowly became aware that my mind was most definitely still attached to my body, even if I was able to see things quite some distance away at the same moment that it was happening.  
My body felt weak…and heavy. I tried moving, but found that I couldn't. As my mind became accustomed to being back in its rightful place, I realised that I was trapped underneath something heavy. Wriggling my arm up to my head and touching the object along the way, I was able to form a mental picture of what it was without even having to open my eyes.

I was trapped underneath the corpse of an orc.  



	29. Oops

A/N: Hey! Well, it's time for another chapter…Finally…I won't make excuses, since you already know why it takes so damned long for us to update…stuff we wish we could avoid, but can't. Sucks, but it's true.

Anyway! Because we know you guys get ridiculously bored in between chapters, Lór and I have come up with a plan – art work! Whee!

Yes, you read that right. Art work! Basically, we want to see your conceptualization of Rhiannon and Fiona, Glorfy and Gilly, Gildor and Elrond etc. We've even started an account on Deviant Art just for the drawings! It's currently empty because, while both Lór and I draw, we get all funny about showing it to other people. So…we'll show you ours if you show us yours…and if you already have an account on some art gallery-esque website, even better! Send us the link and we'll add you to the favourites! All styles are accepted, obviously : ) And, just as obviously, all that fun copyright stuff that usually goes, goes. We aren't going to snark anyone's art if it's not ours, and nor will we post anything if we know for a fact that someone else did it…all that.

So, if you have the inclination or talent (or both ; ), send us your drawings and we'll put them up…or put them up and let us know they exist…either way, it's something to do while you're waiting for the story to progress. Hee hee hee…

And now, speaking of the story…onwards…

* * *

Okay. Dying and being sent to Middle-earth aside, I still can't really believe that I'm the one doing all the lightning effects on the battlefield. It's a little difficult to take, but at the same time, the coincidences are…well, there's too many of them. For instance, just the other day, I was seriously frustrated because I couldn't get to an area where there was fighting fast enough; thunder rolled out of nowhere, and the next thing I know, there's lightning striking amongst the fighting Orcs. 

It wasn't so much that – storms happen in mountains, and especially around fallen Maiar (like Sauron). It was the warm fuzziness I described before. I can feel it _move_ around, feel it _reaching_ for something, sometimes, just before the lightning strikes down. It scares the Jebebus right out of me, mostly because I can't explain_ why_ it seems that I'm responsible for it. I even caught Elrond giving me considering looks after I saved his behind the other day. Six Orcs had penned him in; I pointed my sword at them, ready to charge, and they suddenly jerked on their feet and collapsed, smelling of burnt flesh. It's just so goddamn…confusing. I didn't have time to stick around, so I nodded at him and took off, but not before he gave me that considering look of his.

Sometimes, though, I try to make the fuzziness move and it doesn't, and I have to kill Orcs the hard way. When this happens, I'm left wondering whether or not I'm delusional or if I'm actually _doing_ this myself. The implications of it...and where the hell did this ability come from? Is it actually proof that my sister and I _are_ gifts to the Alliance from the Valar?

No time to get philosophical, though. I think I should save that until after the War's over.

To add to my frustration in the whole matter, though, there's the…other matter that I'm forbidden to even mention. _That_ problem is…scary in a whole different way, and that's all I can say on the matter less the wrong sort…well, you know. In fact, even this brief paragraph might constitute treason. It's just so...argh!

I don't know how to react. Jealousy, of a sort. The eldest sister should experience things first – it's the natural progression of things. I'm happy, but terrified all the same. What if something goes wrong? We're so far away from anything even resembling a hospital...

Hah. _Now_ I start worrying about hospitals. I didn't even worry about hospitals when I had two arrows sticking out of me and a dozen other cuts besides. But _then_, I didn't have to be worried about someone other than myself...Okay, I did, but the point of the matter is, _then_ I was more worried about keeping the Orcs away from Fiona than I was about my immediate health.

And now...

I woke up this morning with my head in a bucket. I'm not entirely sure how I even made it to the bucket, but I didn't become fully aware of what was going on until the remnants of last night's supper and all the stomach fluid in the world was burning the back of my throat and making my teeth feel chalky, and…

Blech. You've all had a good puke, I'm sure. I shan't describe it any more.

_Minaimîr?_ Glorfy had waited until I was done before distracting me. Now he crouched at my side with several cloths and a cup of water. I love my Elf. _What's the matter?_

_Something I ate, my lovely,_ I responded. _Or a stomach bug. Maybe I didn't boil the water properly._

Our water supply is limited to three sources: rainwater, which tasted like acid; stream water, which takes a lot of work to make pure and _still_ tastes foul after all that; and barrelled water shipped in from outside with every supply cart. This water is the most precious commodity that the camp has, is in high demand, and _still_ needs to be boiled before it is drunk.

Kinda makes you wonder why they brought the big tub this far into Mordor. Not that I'm complaining, but still…

_I boiled the water yesternight,_ Glorfy replied with a shake of his head. _And I boiled it very thoroughly._ "Perhaps it is this stomach bug that you mentioned."

"I hope so." I don't know why we returned to the spoken word. We hardly ever used it anymore, when it was just the two of us.

"I will send for Elrond," my husband said a moment later, watching me carefully.

"Nah, don't worry about it." I grimaced, not liking the taste on the inside of my mouth and wishing fervently for some mouthwash. "It was probably a one time thing. And it's not like I have anything left in my belly anyway."

"_Melyanna_…" he left the rest of the sentence unspoken.

"I know, I know." I shook my head. I sipped at the cup of water, and realized that it was not water, but some Elvish drink that soothed the stomach and the soul. I'd tasted this once or twice before, after a particularly rough battle or two, when Glorfy would give it to me to steady shaken nerves. It is in even more limited supply than the barrelled water, and tastes like liquid sunlight. If that makes any sense. "That's better," I said and sighed. This stuff always leaves me feeling contented.

I crawled back towards the bed and flopped myself down on it. "I think I might rest a bit before I get up," I murmured, my eyes already closing.

_Rest, my darling,_ Glorfy whispered into my mind._ I will wake you at __midday__, if you haven't woken before then._

I was too sleepy to reply. So sleepy, in fact, that I didn't even hear him leave our tent…

When I woke up again, my stomach felt…jangly. I know that's not really a word, but it's the only word I can think up for how my stomach felt. Something was…different. I checked for the warm fuzziness I've felt ever since getting struck by lightening…that was fine, if no less confusing. I felt my forehead for a fever – no fever. But _something_ wasn't entirely in place, and the fact that I couldn't think of what it was bothered me even more.

I don't know what's worse; the fact that I couldn't accurately pinpoint the cause of my discomfort, or the fact that I could smell the dining tent from where I was. Stew again, by the smell of it. Probably beef. Which means the supply train's come in, since keeping this army fed takes a _lot_ of effort, let me tell you. Cattle arrive with the supply train, and within a day, we've got beef. Not a process I want to think about...

Whatever it was, my stomach growled loudly, demanding sustenance. As well it should! This is what it gets for waking me up so distastefully this morning. I poked myself in the stomach, and muttered "Hah!" to myself. It's not as satisfying as one might think. In fact, the act of it made me feel rather silly.

I was startled out of my thoughts by the arrival of someone in the outer portion of the tent. I stuck my head around the partition, and fixed a suspicious eye on…Elrond. Glorfy was just letting go of the flap to the outside. They both stopped when they saw my head and shoulders sticking out from around the partition, and had the decency to look mildly guilty.

"I'm fine," I said before either of them could say a word. "Really. My stomach's fine."

"Minaimîr," Glorfy began, "vomiting can be a sign of many things. In this land I will not take the chance of you contracting an unknown illness. Especially since you've started..."

"Well, it hasn't happened since and it's not going to happen any time soon, so I think it's better to wait," I replied quickly. Perhaps I was being snippy, but I was unaccountably annoyed with Glorfy for fetching Elrond after I'd said it was okay not to. And for mentioning the fuzziness around Elrond. It's not that I'm keeping secrets...not really. It's just that I didn't want Elrond to know...yet.

I came out from around the partition, glad for the robe that I'd thrown on over my usual pyjamas (a.k.a. my birthday suit). "I'm sorry you came all the way over here for nothing, Elrond. Would you like some tea?" I gestured to the pot and cups off to one side.

Elrond nodded his assent and I moved to make the tea.

"Oh blast! The water's cold." I put the pot back down, feeling somewhat foolish. I turned in time to catch the shared look between Glorfy and Elrond, and then chose to ignore it. I grabbed the pot and headed for the front door. "I'll just put this over the fire, shall I?" I said as I passed them…

…and then Elrond's hand shot out and grabbed me by the chin. _Intellectually_ I knew that he took me by surprise because I was being stubborn and refusing to be examined. But a few months of sword training – and practical experience in battle – had sharpened my Elvish reflexes, though not so much with the controlling of them. Elrond was lucky that Glorfindel grabbed the kettle before it could hit him, but he was not so lucky in other ways.

The warm fuzziness about my solar plexus suddenly shot down my left arm, jolted out of my extended fingers and arced across the distance between Elrond and I. Blue white sparks danced across his armour, and Elrond jerked, a horrible expression on his face. He dropped like a bag of rocks, and I went down on my knees next to him.

I gradually became aware of someone swearing profusely, and then realized it was I, and shut up. Bits and pieces of Elrond's hair stood up out of its braid, totally frizzed. For a long moment, I was absolutely terrified that I'd killed him, knowledge of the future or no. And then he blinked and shook his head and glanced up at me ruefully.

"Given your displays during that last skirmish," he said wryly, "I think, perhaps, I should have expected that."

"Elrond, I am _so_ sorry," I said, close to tears. I could have killed him! "I didn't mean to…bloody hell! I was just a reflex! I didn't even…I mean, I didn't want to hurt you; I'd never hurt you. You're my friend – I hope – and I couldn't hurt my friend! I don't know what I would have done if I'd…I'm so sorry!" I continued to ramble on, apologizing profusely despite Elrond's protestations that he was alright, and Glorfindel's attempts to get a word in edgewise, until…

"Rhiannon!"

That stopped me cold. I turned, half expecting to see Fiona or someone else who might still call me by that name, but there was no one there except my husband.

"What did you call me?" I stared at Glorfy. He's only ever uttered my name once before – well, 'Minaimîr' is as much my name now as 'Rhiannon' ever was, but still – to hear my _real_ name on his lips took me by complete surprise.

_Take hold of your senses, my love,_ Glorfy admonished gently on our private circuit. _Elrond is unhurt, but he needs rest. Help me move him to our bed._

I nodded, not bothering to answer either silently or aloud. I still found myself crying, with shame and with shock, as I slipped an arm under Elrond's shoulders and heaved. Glorfy did most of the helping because he's the same height as Elrond. At my height, helping a seven-foot tall Elf walk is a little difficult. I've done it once or twice before, helping Glorfy himself, and then later helping wounded comrades off the battlefield. Height is definitely advantage in an instance such as this.

To make myself more useful, I grabbed the kettle from where my husband had dropped it and darted out, startling our guards. I pushed the kettle at them and told them to fetch some hot water, preferably now.

"And see if Fiona is free," I added.

"My Lady?" The guard looked confused, and I don't blame him. I have to remind myself, sometimes, that not everyone in this camp refers to my sister as I do.

"The Queen. See if the Queen's busy, and if she isn't, tell her that her sister needs to talk."

"Yes, my Lady."

I turned to go back inside. "On second thought," I said, loud enough that the guard walking away could hear me. He stopped and looked back. "Just tell her that I'll come and find her when I'm done with…in a while. Okay?"

"Of course, my Lady."

When I got back into the tent, Glorfy had Elrond stretched out on our bed. I approached timidly, not sure if I should even touch anything or if Elrond would even want to look at me. My husband had peeled off Elrond's armour, chain mail and under tunic, and was inspecting Elrond's chest for burns. Thankfully, there were only small burns, where the metal had contacted his skin, and none of them were particularly serious.

"How's his heartbeat?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer. The two Elves looked up at me, as if surprised to see me back so soon. "I sent one of the guards for tea," I added.

Glorfy nodded, and then said, "As far as I can tell, Elrond is unharmed."

"Thank all things holy," I breathed, and sank to the floor where I was. There was a rock poking through the layers of rugs, and it dug into my arse, but I didn't move. My muscles felt all watery, and the jangly feeling from earlier caught up with me. I'd forgotten about it.

"Indeed, my Lady Minaimîr, I am unharmed." I looked up and found Elrond regarding me seriously with his stormy grey eyes. "But I must ask you to never do that to me again." And then he smiled. He _actually_ smiled; a full out, no holding back, smile. It made him look almost my age.

"I promise," I whispered, and found tears in my eyes again. I smiled to show that I really wasn't all that up set, but then the jangly feeling got particularly strong and my eyes widened, and then I was scrambling across the floor to the replacement bucket…

I shan't describe the next few minutes to you, since you already know what it's like. I just wish I'd had something in my stomach to expunge.

Elrond left sometime later. He hadn't felt up to examining me just then, on account of me nearly electrocuting him with my newly acquired super-powers. Bloody hell…if I start being able to control the weather as well, I'm going to have to get people to start calling me 'Storm'. And, because I'm not in my reality any more, Marvel can't sue me for copyright infringement. Hah!

Even so, Elrond prescribed rest, a light diet, and a shot more of that liquid sunlight, for both of us. I was more than happy to comply…_after_ I'd talked to Fiona. The guard had come back and told me that the Queen was not busy, and could be found with the King in the Command Pavilion. I threw on some clothes and headed there, Glorfy looking concernedly at me the whole time I was dressing.

"I'll be fine," I said, pausing at the exit flap to turn back to him.

_Are you sure?_ He asked me in my mind.

_Yes, my darling. I am sure._ I smiled at him. _I won't be gone long_. I gave him a kiss and slipped out the door.

The sun was up, but the thick cloud cover in this part of Mordor did not let a lot of its light though. Well, visible light, anyway. Plenty of UV light got through, giving all the colours a sort of washed-out look and set a vaguely blue glow over everything. People usually think I'm nuts when I try to explain to them that I can _see_ UV light. Not the entire UV spectrum, by any means! Oh no. Just the lowest of the low-frequency UV rays, and even then there's just a blue-violet glow to things and I get a nasty headache behind my eyes. I'm not the only one though…apparently, ten percent of the world's population can see it too. At least in my old time, anyway.

That headache hit me right when I left the tent. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and tried to ignore it. My stomach had finally quieted and I didn't want a headache to make it worse. Muttering about bloody clouds and bloody headaches, I headed off to the Command Pavilion in search of my twin.

It didn't take long to get there, and I spotted Fiona immediately, sitting off to one side at her own desk and writing in the thick book that I knew to be her journal. I meandered through the pavilion, nodded and waved at Gilly when he looked up and saw me, and then at a couple of others that I recognized. I even spotted Thranduil. I'd been introduced to him at Fe's wedding ceremony, and hadn't seen much of him since.

He's an all right guy. A little stuffy, but then, all told, he has reason to be. I've been dying to know if Legolas has been born yet, but I'm too nervous to ask him. I don't know how he would handle it.

Fiona looked up as I approached. Berialagor was standing off to the side and behind her, looking for all the world as though she wasn't paying attention to anything, though I knew for a fact that she was as alert as ever.

"Hey!" Fiona said. "I was beginning to get worried. A guard showed up and said something about you coming to speak with me in a moment…and that was nearly an hour ago. Any longer and I would have come looking myself. What's up?"

I shrugged. "Oh, a little of everything. Got time for a walk?"

"Of course," she said, and rose from her desk. Gil-galad looked over when she stood; she must have sent him a mind-message, because he only smiled and went back to whatever it was he had been doing. Berialagor fell in behind us as we walked, silent as a shadow.

I waited until we were some distance from everyone before I began my tale. I told her about waking up with my head in a bucket, about Elrond – everything. The incident with Elrond needed some explaining though.

"Wait…what do you mean you electrocuted him?" Fiona asked, giving me the oddest look.

I frowned. "You mean I didn't tell you about the fuzziness?" I asked, perhaps the most cryptic question I've ever uttered. I shook my head. "Sorry; not trying to keep secrets or anything, I just forgot that I hadn't told you." My reluctance to tell Elrond is one thing…Fiona's my twin! I'd wanted to tell her earlier, just hadn't found the way to do it. And then I forgot and assumed that she knew. I do that far too often, it seems.

So I explained about 'the fuzziness'. About how everything goes 'twing!' whenever lightning strikes, and about how the fuzziness _moves_, and how that ended up with me zapping Elrond when he'd startled me.

"Whatever have you been smoking?" She asked when I was through. She was making a face at me.

"Why, want to share?" I shot back with a grin. "I swear: I'm not making this up. I think it's something like you and your visions."

She nodded, though slowly. "Maybe. I don't really get where those things came from either."

"Maybe it's the Valar," I suggested.

She shrugged. "Could be. I can't think of anything else."

"Maybe..." I stopped and glanced at her. I couldn't say it. I can't even hint. Even so, she understood.

"I don't think so," she said. "Besides; it explains some of the rumors I'd heard from some of the men, about you and your strange talent to make Orcs explode. They consider it lucky."

I grimaced. "That's a bit of a relief," I said. Even though I don't think that I've actually exploded any Orcs. Just somehow managed to kill them from a distance. Well…actually, there was that one time…never mind. But at least the soldiers weren't going to crucify me for being different.

"How's your stomach feeling?" she asked me after a bit.

"It's alright, I suppose. It's just…"

"What?"

"Something's not quite right, and I can't put my finger on it." I put my hand on my belly. "There's…something…"

Fiona's eyes widened a little.

"I think I know what you mean," she said slowly. She looked around her and, seeing that there was no one except Berialagor, leaned close to me. She whispered in my ear what she thought was causing the strangeness I was feeling, and I'd be damned if I didn't have to sit down.

* * *

Bloody hell. 

I can't be.

But, damnit, a woman _knows_!

I must be…god_damnit_!

A Woman Knows, Fiona said. I know.

'Woman' – bloody hell! This means I have to grow up. No more stupid risks. No more stupid nonsense. No travelling. No exerting myself. No putting myself in harms way – so no more battles at Glorfy's side. Of all the _STUPID_ dumbass things to go and do in the middle of a war zone! Sonova_bitch_! And, yet again, I can't tell anyone. It'd be far too dangerous if the wrong people knew...I could become leverage against the Alliance. Not something I want to have happen, especially with what it would mean for me and…

No wonder I woke up with my head in a bucket!

How am I going to handle this? How am I going to _deal_ with this? This thing in my belly, this _parasite_, is my…_child_…

I'd considered kids when I got married. You kinda have to. I'd always left having kids for _later_…budgeted the first one for that time, years down the road, when the war was over and I'd be living wherever the hell I'd be living, with Glorfy and Fiona and Gilly along for the ride. And we would have travelled, and hung out in Lothlórien, and gone to Rivendell for a time, and…

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down and think rationally. How long had it been since my 'horny week'? Did it really matter? The 'horny week' worked, if indeed I am…pregnant…it did what it was biologically meant to do. If I understand what Elrond was telling me, this week was the only time that...holy crap. _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

This isn't the end of my life. I have not doomed the Alliance to a failed war by getting 'caught'. I am an adult – a _married_ _woman_ – and I can handle this!

"Don't tell anyone," I told Fiona. "They'll find out soon enough. I don't want them thinking I went and did this to get out of any work around here." I tried to smile, but my face wasn't working properly. She acknowledged my request with a nod.

"Are you alright?" she asked in return.

"I'm fine," I said. "Believe me; part of me is absolutely overjoyed, it's the rest of me that's screaming to get away. It's just that these sorts of things always happen to other people," I finished lamely. Next thing I knew, I was being wrapped in a huge hug.

Fiona didn't say anything, but I knew what she was trying to convey. Everything was going to be just fine – and if it didn't turn out that way, then we'd work through it together as sisters.

We stood like that in the middle of the camp for some time, Berialagor watching our backs. There was no one else around in this part of the camp, something I was exceedingly thankful for. After a bit, we pulled away and dried our tears, and I found myself wishing that I could have kept it together as well as my twin did when _she_ found out…

"What are you going to do when Elrond gets better and comes back for the examination?"

"Lie," I said unashamedly. "Well, bend the truth, at least," I added after I caught my sister's look. "You of all people know why it's essential to not let on," I said in my own defence. "I know I despise liars, but if protecting this secret means protecting both me _and_ my unborn child, then goddamnit, I am going to lie my guts out!" I was particularly proud that I managed to keep my voice low. No one heard me on the far side of the camp, and where we were standing there was absolutely no chance for spies.

"And Glorfindel?" Fiona asked. "How are you going to keep all of this from him?"

"I don't know," I said with a sigh. "I really don't want to. The overjoyed part of me wants to run screaming through the camp to tell him the news. Not only that, but he deserves to know, since it's his damn fault I'm in this mess." I grinned to show that I was not serious about that last remark, and found that smiling was getting easier.

_Unborn child_, I thought to myself, deliberately keeping the thought private. _Oh bloody hell. _I'm scared shitless. But I can't worry about that right now. I can't worry about whether or not I'll end up leverage against the people I care about, and I can't worry about whether or not my new-found super-powers are going to affect the life within me.

Life within…that's what I'd sensed earlier, that I couldn't put a finger on. There was _life_ within me. I'd always heard that some women claimed to know the exact instant of conception. Having previously no way to test their claims, I was unprepared for the actual sensation of it. It was a little awe-inspiring. Now if only I wasn't so mixed up about everything...

Fiona and I chatted a little while longer. We changed the subject as we got closer to actual people again, trying desperately to look cheerful and as though we weren't talking about anything hideously important. We smiled at soldiers we passed and they often bowed at us. At some point we were joined by some more of Fiona's guard, the hot twins amongst them.

"I think I could do with another shot of Liquid Sunshine," I joked a while later. Too bad I'd already had more than my fair share today. I likely wouldn't taste it again until after the war.

"Don't you go and get addicted to the stuff," Fiona admonished.

"I won't, I won't."

_Melyanna?_ Glorfindel's thought reached me, and I knew he was anxious to talk to me.

_Yes?_

_You're upset. What is the matter?_

I tried to convey that I was alright, that I was out talking with Fiona and we were having as good a time in a war camp as can be had without paying for it. It seemed to work.

_I'll be home soon,_ I sent back. He left my head with feelings of love, and I smiled to myself.

"Glorfindel?" Fiona asked when I came out of it. Apparently, my whole face goes blank when I'm talking in my head to someone on the other side of the camp.

"Yeah. I'd better be getting back to my tent. You alright to walk back to the pavilion?"

"I've got my honour guard," Fiona said with a wave. "Meet you for supper?"

"Of course. Nothing short of dying could stop me."

"Great."

We gave each other another huge hug and went our separate ways.

* * *

The days have gone by so quickly that I've barely had time to write. Not much has else has happened that would indicate, one way or the other, whether or not I actually am…ahem. The sense of life within is still there...it seems I can't put it out of my awareness. I'm not even sure that I want to. 

Anyway, it's been about two weeks since the last time I wrote, and not too much has happened. After my near-miss, when I nearly electrocuted Elrond, both Glorfy and I decided to see if I couldn't learn how to control my new abilities. Especially now that my apparent displays of light effects have petered out…even when I want it to, the fuzziness (as I call it) sometimes won't even respond. It's not helping my sanity any. _Am_ I actually the one…of course I am. That's a silly line of thought. Just look at what happened to Elrond when he startled me! It's just the hormones thinking for me.

So…yeah. I'm going to try some of those old meditation techniques that I've messed about with in the past…see if that works. I really hope that it does, since I would hate to blow up something that would be useful for us. Or someone that I care about…

Good lord…I'm going to be one of those emotional pregnant women, I just know it. Damnit! Why couldn't nature just _wait_?

I still haven't told Glorfy. How the hell am I going to tell him?

* * *

Control! I've worked it out. 

Sorry…it's been another week or so since I wrote, and I know randomly saying things like that is doing nothing for the story continuity here. But, honestly, what can you really expect? Battle after battle after battle…and each one worse than the last. And they just go on, and on and on…

Ahem. The meditation thing worked. It was weird – back when I was alive, I could never get it to work properly. I'd always just end up falling asleep, or feeling numb in the legs for a while because I was cramped or had pinched a nerve. But this time…maybe all the sword practice and the concentration I have to put into that helps. The first time it worked though…startled the crap right out of me.

Glorfy was off doing whatever the hell he does during the day. For once there was no battle, but that didn't mean I had time to write anything down. I still have that job with the Quartermaster, however much I hate data entry. That, and actually fighting stuff, takes up a lot of time, let me tell you. Even so…

Narwanar let Fe and I go for a long break. We'd been trying to decipher a cipher from…somewhere, and pass the translation on to Gilly, but we had gotten so frustrated with it that we were ordered off to have a break. After grabbing a snack together, Fiona wondered off in search of her husband, or sleep, whichever she found first. Normally I would have done the same, but I was anxious to try learning how to control this damned ability I've seemed to have picked up out of nowhere. So I wondered off to my own tent, and was glad that no one was there when I arrived.

I sat down in the middle of the pile of cushions and blankets that constitutes my bed, unbound my hair, loosened the ties on my shirt...and then thought better of it, and got undressed completely. Nabbing one of Glorfy's shirts from the neatly folded pile at the foot of the bed, I put it on. Much better...nothing like men's clothing to bum around and relax in! Especially when said man's clothing could quite literally be used as a blanket.

Finally comfy, I plunked myself back down in the midst of the blankets and pillows and took a deep breath. The scent of clean laundry mingled with the scent of clean Glorfy, and helped to dull the scent of sulphur and grossness that is Mordor. I exhaled, counting to five. Inhale, count to five, exhale, count to five...over and over and over again. I'd had some practice at this on account of being taught to wield a sword, so quite rapidly I turned the process over to the unconscious part of my brain and got to work.

What happened then is what startled me. I am going to record it as though I were actually talking/reacting to another physical presence, though everything happened in my own head. But personifying the fuzziness that's within me is the only way I have of conveying the strangeness of it, so bear with me.

I poked it. It looked at me. I looked at it. I damn near lost the trance-thing-state that I was in due to surprise. Ever have I thought of the thing in terms of a cat; now it was giving me the same expression as cats give when you've disturbed them from their all-important activities.

_What_?

It took me a minute to realize that it wasn't Glorfy talking to me. But then I realized that he would never be that belligerent.

_What are you_? I asked it.

_Same thing you are_, it replied.

_Like hell_. _Since when have I been some fuzzy sense wrapped around someone's solar plexus?_

_Think facets_, it snapped. _I am a facet of you. I was asleep before the lightning; now I'm not._

_Where did you come from?_

_You._

_I thought you were in the lightning._

_I was._

_But then how did you come from me?_

_I am you; a facet of you...only recently activated, to be sure. But still you._

_I got that part,_ I said, though I still had no idea what the hell was going on. _So.__ How do you work?_

_What do you mean?_

_How do I get you to do what I want you to do?_

_Ask nicely._

And, just like that, I snapped out of it. I opened my eyes, startled to find Glorfy sitting across from me, looking worried.

"I tried to contact you," he said aloud. "Are you alright?"

I blinked at him a few times. He must have been pretty worried to drop what he was doing to come find me. Did he know then? No…he must still be worried about me, even though the morning (and afternoon and evening and night...why do they call it '_morning_' sickness when it happens all the damn time?) puke-fests have pretty much stopped. Thank all things holy for _that_! "Yeah. Just trying to work something out."

"In my shirt?" he asked wryly.

"It's comfy," I replied defensively, going a little red. "Seriously, though. I'm alright."

He gave me a long look and then sighed. "If you say so, _melyanna_." He rose. "I must return to my duties; will you be alright here?"

"Of course, my lovely," I replied. "No worries." He swooped in for a kiss that lasted longer than it should have, stood with a grin, and left. With a sigh, I flopped back over onto the bed.

Ask nicely, eh? A facet of me? What the _hell_ does all this mean?

I contemplated the fuzziness that had wrapped itself around me, and felt it raise its head again. I looked at the fingers on my left hand, which had so recently zapped Elrond. I concentrated on them, and asked the fuzziness – nicely – in my head if it wouldn't mind heading that way. I wasn't expecting it to move; indeed, I felt rather foolish for thinking it had to be done this way. I mean, if this fuzziness is me, and I am it, why do I have to ask nicely?

In answer, a spark jumped from my left hand to right between my eyes. It was no more painful than the discharge of static electricity, but I still yelped.

Great. After a lifetime of dreaming, I finally have a superpower and it's got a mind of its own. Bloody marvelous.

After that, I am cautious with how I deal with this thing. I don't want some stupid facet of my brain deciding that the rest of me needed a metaphorical smack upside the head. Not only is it grounds for institutionalization, but it's just plain scary…

* * *

I got ordered back from the front lines today. Glorfy found out. 

Fiona didn't tell him, and neither did I (largely because I didn't know how to broach the subject). I think it might have been Elrond, though I don't know when he would have figured it out. He hadn't had a hold of my chin for long enough that day I nearly electrocuted him, and I haven't seen him since, except in passing. So maybe it wasn't Elrond. Sadoriel? Could be…I'm around her a lot more.

I dunno. I just know that I was having fun blowing shit up with lightning from my fingertips (this is a _hell_ of a lot more fun than any movie ever made it look like. Everything…tingles, it's marvellous!), and then, out of no where, Glorfy appears on Minras and grabs me by the scruff of the neck, hauls me up on to Minras' back, and heads off back to camp.

He didn't answer my questions the whole way back, either aloud or in our heads. I knew he was angry, even from body language alone if the bond hadn't been brimming with the emotion to start with. I fed off that emotion somehow, so by the time he plunked me down on our bed, I too was _pissed_.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "Why are you on the frontlines, putting yourself in danger?"

I stared at him. "This is a battle ground, Glorfy. Putting myself in danger is a moot point. Everywhere in this whole damn _camp_ is dangerous."

"You know of what I speak," he said testily.

"No, actually, I don't." I replied. I stood from the bed and crossed my arms under my breasts. "And I'm not going to be talked to like this. If you're angry at me, at least do me the decency of telling me _why_."

"Why?" he shouted, taking me aback. "You want to know why? You carry my child and the future of my House and you want to know _why_ I don't want you to be in danger?"

To my credit, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't slap his face. I wanted to, more than anything, to do _something_ to get back at him for shouting, but I knew why he had. I felt the ground drop away from me, and my breathing got really heavy, and my head spun. I felt sick to my stomach and…_mad_. The fuzziness built and built, looking for a way out, for something to zap into oblivion.

I tried to keep my face still, to not flood him with emotions as I wanted to. Well, I did fling the sharp sting of hurt at him before I walled myself off, but it was no more than he deserved.

It would have worked too, if I hadn't passed out.

* * *

_Wake up_. 

The thought – my own – echoed through my dream. I sat up. The tent was empty. I looked around, and then stood. I tried to walk, but my legs would not work properly, so I pulled myself along by my hands. I stuck my head out the tent flap and into a cave.

The cave was dark, but there were markings on the wall that glowed phosphorescently. I crawled forward, wondering if my legs would work if I got to the end of the tunnel. A cat brushed past me, his fur crackling with static electricity. It mewed, and sparks jumped between its teeth.

_Wake up!_

But I am awake…

I was lying on my back, under the stars. Somehow the image of the ceiling of my tent got superimposed on the sky, and the two would flicker back and forth. I looked to my right. There was a woman I didn't know, sitting beside me.

"Your garden's gone dry," she said. "You need to water the plants."

I looked over at the garden that was never there, but now had been there the whole time. The plants were withered, except one.

"But I watered them yesterday," I said, confused.

"Everything is energy," the woman said. She leaned back and I realized that she was completely naked. This didn't disturb me as much as it might have, I realized…I was probably still dreaming.

_Wake up!_

I could feel my muscles trembling, like the after effects of ecstasy. My hands clenched and spasms rippled up and down my legs. I could feel my back arch underneath me, but my mind was elsewhere…images flickered passed, too quick to follow. All at once, I could breathe again. Air rasped down my throat and I said one word

"Seizure…"

…darkness...

I woke up suddenly, though it took me a while to focus. Glorfindel was standing over me, with Elrond and Sadoriel, and all three of them looked worried. Faint memories of ridiculous dreams came back to me, and I stared bleary-eyed at everyone. I felt drained and dopey, and for far too long couldn't remember what my name was.

"I had a seizure, didn't I?" I asked, trying to remember just what had happened. The dreams became clearer, but I didn't have the energy to process them just then. "Don't worry about it," I added when no one said anything. "I get them from time to time. It's just my brain short-circuiting." I reflected that this one might be the result of throwing electricity around and decided that I should probably cut back.

"Do you always shoot sparks from your fingers and toes when you have one of these?" Elrond asked dryly.

"No, that would be something new," I said, equally as dryly. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, my lovely," Glorfy finally spoke. "No one got hurt. But are you…and…" he glanced fearfully at my belly.

_We're fine, _I said telepathically.

"Your wife and child are unharmed," Elrond said. Blast! This means he _did _know. But I was still in my post-seizure stupor, and couldn't be bothered to figure out what – if anything – that meant.

Good lord. There's no getting out of being sent from the camp now. Damnit!

Glorfy looked so relieved that I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him. He muttered something in Elvish, and the only word I understood out of all of it was "Eru". Elrond put a hand on his shoulder, nodded to me, and slipped out. Sadoriel stayed long enough to help me sit up in bed and pile enough cushions behind me that I _stayed_ sitting up in bed, and then she too slipped out of the tent. Glorfy sat down on the many layers of carpets that shielded our feet from the bare black rock of Mordor.

We were silent for a few moments. For the longest time, he simply stared at me. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and one that hurt me even more than when he had yelled.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," I replied, quite honestly. "Part of me wanted to, more than anything. And the other part…" I trailed off. "I wanted to be sure."

"Could you not sense the life within you?"

I looked at my feet, and didn't say anything. My throat felt thick. It didn't help that I was weak from the seizure. The fact that I _had_ sensed the new life within my belly only made the guilt worse.

"How did you find out?" I asked finally.

When he didn't respond immediately, I thought for a second that he hadn't heard. I was about to ask him again when he…well, my writing professors used to say "show, don't tell" in regards to writing stories. It basically means that an author should endeavour to have his or her reader seeing events unfolding with the inner eye, rather than the bland description of a text book. What Glorfy did then took "show, don't tell" to a whole different level He actually _showed_ me, something that I hadn't even thought possible, even with the whole telepathy thing. This is what he showed me:

_Glorfindel strode to the command pavilion, worried about his new wife. This new sickness could be a sign of worse things to come – especially since it had begun to present itself in this foul land. He had to squash the stark terror of being alone again, crush it mercilessly under a millennia of discipline. He could feel her in the back of his mind, a bundle of emotions and thoughts. If necessary, that bond could lead him directly to her…it had been necessary on more than one occasion since she and her sister had arrived, something that bothered Glorfindel to no end._

_But he had to push those thoughts away. Gildor and Elrond were waiting for him with the latest reports, and Isildur was calling for his attention on the matter of the deployment of troops to the eastern edge of the camp, where the battle was being fought today. The sensation of Minaimîr seemed…pleased. She was taking part in that battle, putting her newfound skills to work. _

_Were it not for discipline, Glorfindel would have shaken his head. Minaimîr's sudden skills had likely the same source as the Queen's development of foresight; but while Elves had always had the talent of foresight, as well as a select few with further magics, he had yet to hear of one that could control lightning as his wife did. He glanced down at his right hand, now mostly healed. The sky's fire had burned him, seared him at a single touch, but – in spite of all his fears – Minaimîr had remained unscathed by the lightning bolt. Something_ else _to be thankful for, he supposed._

_Glorfindel glanced to the east. He could see the flicker and hear the crashing, pounding thunder as his wife called it down from the sky – however it was she managed it. A gift from Aman indeed. He could almost imagine the carnage she must be spreading amongst the Orcs, and the terror also. Their twisted kin could hardly recognize the true source of the lightening._

_"Glorfindel?" Isildur asked. "Have you heard a word I said?"_

_With a start, Glorfindel realized that his wife had – yet again – been the cause of his wandering mind. "My apologies, Isildur," Glorfindel said with a shake of the head. "Minaimîr is on the front lines, and her safety is a cause of great worry for me."_

_Gildor laughed gently. "It is truly a wonder that you even let her near the front lines," he said. _

_"Truly," Glorfindel replied. "If I had any other choice, she and I would be far away from here, and safe from harm."_

_"Aye," Gildor said. "Especially now."_

_Glorfindel frowned. He noticed that Elrond and Isildur had suddenly gone still, as had many other Elves and Men around them. _

_"What do you speak of?" Glorfindel asked, confused. He looked around him, searching for a face that registered the same confusion that he felt._

_Gildor's frown matched Glorfindel's. Everyone else had gone straight-faced, devoid of emotion. It worried Glorfindel. _

_"Well, it is no wonder you want her removed from the front lines, given her condition," Gildor said reasonably. "Were it my wife, I don't believe that I co –"_

_"Her condition?" Glorfindel interrupted. "What condition? _What condition?_" Glorfindel practically roared when no one answered, and Gildor flinched._

_"You mean…You didn't know?" he asked incredulously. "You cannot possibly tell me that you did not know that your Lady wife is with child."_

_"She would have told me…" he began. But then he stopped, and examined the sensation of Minaimîr that resided in the back of his mind. Deep down, past the mild glee at destruction, and her love for him, her homesickness for her own time and the sense of sorority she shared with the Queen, beyond that…what was that phrase she used so often? Bloody hell? It suited._

_Glorfindel was out of the command pavilion before Gildor or anyone else truly realized that he had moved. He could hear someone calling after him, but he ignored them. Minras was near; Glorfindel mounted his old friend without a saddle or a bridle, only sent Minras his intention. Minras understood, and was off, galloping through the camp towards the front lines. He only slowed when he reached the pitched battle, and then only long enough for Glorfindel to locate his wife._

Fool! _He cursed himself for not noticing; 'her condition', Gildor had said. Hah! _Blind fool!

_He could see her, standing on a bit of an outcrop so she could see over everyone's heads. Doubtless she didn't know what sort of a target she presented to the enemy, especially looking as she did. Her hair was wild about her, moving in the currents of the lightning that she wielded. Even from this distance Glorfindel could discern small blue sparks leaping from strand to strand, and between her splayed fingers. Everywhere she pointed, Orcs jerked and fell. Searing hot strands of lightning fell amongst the Orcs further away._

_Glorfindel knew touching her could be potentially dangerous, but he didn't care. He was hurt and angry that she hadn't told him, that she had _known _all along and had gone into battle anyway. Bad enough that she felt she had to endanger herself – but with a child! _Their_ child! The utter terror of being alone had to be squashed again before it made him do something rash. _

_Minras leaped forward, scattering Elves and Men and Orcs and horses as he went. He barely took the time to trample any Orcs that got in his way, though he did his best to avoid downed allies. Minaimîr didn't even look up from where she was; all of her concentration was on the battle before her. As he came up behind her, Glorfindel leaned down from Minras' back and snatched his wife up by the scruff of her tunic. Even with the armour she was as light as a feather – to him, at least._

_"What the hell are you doing?" she squawked as Minras carried them back to their tent. She asked again on their private link, but he didn't answer. All he wanted was for her to be safe._

I withdrew from the images feeling a sense of shock. He had carried the story as far as seeing me collapse, and – a few moments later, before he had time to send for Elrond – go into seizure. Despite having had seizures before, they have always been in my sleep, and so no one had ever been around to witness one. Furthermore, they were so few and far between that when I was diagnosed with them as a child, the doctor didn't seem to think they were anything all that important. Whatever…every few months – sometimes not even once a year – I end up with messed up dreams and a day of no fine motor control over my muscles. The after affects usually only last a day, and then I'm back to normal until the next time my brain short-circuits.

The point of all this was that, seeing myself twitching and convulsing through Glorfy's eyes – and seeing all those jolts of electricity grounding themselves, even as Sadoriel appeared and ran to fetch Elrond – made me feel even worse that I hadn't told him about the baby. _Especially_ since I could feel every emotion that Glorfindel had felt at the time. I had no idea the sheer depth of emotion that Glorfy feels towards me…it was staggering in its intensity. I felt as if I didn't deserve it – especially not now, after I'd deceived him.

By the end of it all, I wasn't a pretty sight. My eyes were red from the tears of guilt, and all I wanted was for Glorfindel to hold me and tell me he forgave me, but I was almost too afraid to tell him that.

"I'm sorry," I said. It came out as a whisper.

He didn't say anything, just enfolded me in his arms.

* * *

"I think I need to tell you something," I said a little while later, scrubbing my face with a cloth to get the worst of the tears off. 

"What is it, _melyanna_?"

"You're going to be a dad."

His face lit up with a smile so brilliant that I couldn't help but return it.

* * *

Everything is going to be okay. Not just because Fiona's my twin, and she'll be with me through the whole thing (though that's a huge part of it) – my husband is not going to send me away. Glorfy explained the whole thing to me: a pregnant she-Elf (in this case, me…bloody hell!) has to be helped through her pregnancy by her husband. The bond, that wonderful link that allowed us to share our thoughts, is critical in keeping both the unborn child _and_ the mother alive. 

Come to think of it, Elrond had mentioned something along those lines, all those weeks ago when he'd explained 'begetting' in that somewhat bland voice of his. Truthfully, I think even Fiona mentioned it, back when we were still fanfiction nut-jobs in search of chocolate and the perfect Mary-Sue; though, when Fiona brought it up, it was something she dug up out of the Peoples of Middle-earth series. Having never read them (or finished the Silmarillion), it hadn't really ever occurred to me that there would be no way that either Fiona or I would be sent from the respective sides of our respective husbands. And now there's no way they can get rid of us.

At the same time, the idea of being so dependant on another person – for my very survival! – when it was primarily this person's fault that I'm in the condition I'm in…! Well, I've never been the most independent person, and my family will attest to that if anyone ever meets them. But that doesn't change the fact that I hate being beholden to anyone, and because I can't actually _leave_ Glorfy's side, that means he's going to be spending the next year spazzing out about me _and_ the baby. On top of everything else he has to worry about…

* * *

It's been three months, or so…my updates have gotten sporadic, at best. In fact, I'd written a middlin' amount, but those pages got damaged and are now illegible, thanks to an errant arm and a bottle of ink that I'd forgotten to put a stopper on – in? Whatever. Point is, I can't even remember what I'd written, so all of that stuff will just have to be lost to posterity. 

Anyway…I'm starting to get fat.

Okay, not fat. It's mostly my imagination, but I'm half convinced that my belly's starting to swell. I'm starting to _look_ pregnant, is what I mean, and other people (apart from those who already knew) are starting to notice. And grin. And congratulate me. And the women are starting to squeal (in a dignified Elvish way of course). And if there could be, I'm sure there would be little old ladies telling me about their firstborns, or their grandchildren, or their friend's children, and offering advice on how to cope, and…argh! Just Elrond and Glorfy are bad enough. Motherhood is a wonderful thing, I'm sure, but I'm going to reserve my final opinion for when I finally give birth. In the mean time…

Sorry…I had a feeling I was going to be emotional, and it seems I get annoyed at the drop of the metaphorical hat. In actuality, I'm really looking forward to having kids, young as I am. Terrified, to be sure; but happy. Not even the War can dim the prospect of having my very own child…my blood…

Damn these hormones! Angry to weepy in an instant…At least some little old lady isn't going to be showing me blurry, wallet-sized pictures of her grandchildren. Only because there isn't any photographic technology, and all the 'old ladies' around here look my age and are actually several centuries older.

Doesn't stop some of them from trying, though. As interesting as miniature portraits are, and as marvellous as the detail is, some days it's all I can do to force a polite smile on my face and nod. I have to wonder if there's a gene behind the urge to blather on about your kids. Perhaps I'll understand when this one hatches.

Fiona, of course, has is far worse than me. Very few people know about her, so she doesn't get the constant babble that I get, but that just means that hiding the fact of it is that much more stressful. Few, thankfully ever stop to wonder why it was she switched to long, loose dresses. Every now and again, though, we share a rueful look and make a silly remark about being twins in everything.

I wonder if it's a boy or a girl? I'll take either, really. Names are going to be interesting…old Elf customs apparently state that the mother gives one name, and the father gives another, and then when the kid grows up they somehow acquire another name, and a nickname (an _epessë_…I finally found out what that was), and eventually, their father/mother names are lost in history and seldom remembered.

Huh…I suppose it's one way to avoid the conflicts that could arise from two stubborn parents wanting two different names, but honestly…I'm the one carrying the kid to term, I think my names should go first. Hee hee.

I have more time on my hands to wonder about these things, these days. Ever since it became common knowledge that I was 'caught', the whole army has been working against me to keep me from harm. I don't know if Glorfy told them to, or if they're acting entirely of their own volition, but I haven't been in the thick of a battle ever since…since Glorfy grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me off to our tent. Three months. I never thought I'd miss it so much.

Oh, they let me participate; they don't really have a choice in that matter. Even Gilly tried to order me to stop, and I just gave him my trademark smile and casually mentioned something about how it was funny that those big rocks that Barad-dûr had been throwing at us lately were blowing up before they reached our ranks. That silenced him pretty effectively, but it didn't mean that I was let back into the front. It just meant that I was allowed to blow shit up from an even bigger distance than before. It's just…not as much fun.

* * *

I've had all the 'fun' I can take for at least another year. Good lord… 

The battles seem to be getting worse. I've never managed to ask how long the Alliance had been at this, and not knowing exactly how much time was spent in Mordor before Sauron got his fingers lopped of doesn't help; it just means I don't know how much longer we have to be at this before it's over and that's trying. But those boulders that I've been zapping (which takes far more effort than it sounds like…moving targets and all that) have recently started to be covered in pitch and set alight before they're flung. Gods help us all if they start throwing metal containers filled with liquid magma…

Anyway, I had taken up my customary spot on a well-sheltered outcrop in the middle of camp, one with a reasonable view of the battlefield. It was nice, because while my range doesn't seem to be limited (at least, I haven't found a limit to it yet, though I'm sure there must be one…or more), arrows _do_ have a limited range, and so the Orcs couldn't shoot me from where they were. The Enemy was getting clever…more than one flaming boulder was loosed this time, and I was getting tired trying to blow all of them up.

To keep my spirits up, I played AC-DC's _Thunderstruck_ in my head, or – at least – those bits of it I knew; which consists of the opening few bars and the yowled "Thunderstruck!" by whatshisname the lead singer. While this served to keep my lighting in time (almost like playing along to a song, really…only my instrument is a deadly natural force. Lamest comparison ever, but I hope you understand the picture there), it also served to drive Glorfy almost around the bend, to the point where he had to withdraw from my mind. It would have been better if I knew the rest of the song, but…oh well.

Even with this, though, my aim was never perfect. The bolts that missed invariably fell amongst Orcs, but the boulders that I missed invariably fell amongst our ranks. It all made me terribly upset, which is probably why when things turned nasty later, I didn't exactly react with…rationality.

You see, Fe got captured. This made me doubly desperate…amongst other glaringly obvious reasons, I refuse to let my child grow up without knowing her Auntie Fe.

My strength was flagging. I'd spent all day blowing things up and I was tired. Day after day of forcing myself to fight was beginning to take its toll. I watched the flaming boulder loose from Barad-dûr, and with a sinking feeling, knew that my lightning wouldn't be fast enough to stop this one. That didn't stop me from trying; I flung my hand out as before, willing the fuzziness to _move_, but everything was going too slowly. My awareness of everything around me sprang into sudden relief and I _felt_ as though Fiona were near by, _felt_ her fear in the energy of the air molecules. With sudden clarity, I knew _exactly_ what was going to happen, and that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was too far away to pull her out myself, too slow with the lightning to smash the projectile into harmless bits as I had done with the others. There have been very few occasions in my life where I have felt so helpless, and so far, this is the worst. I think I might have even screamed.

The last I remember before the blood-red haze drifted over my vision was Berialagor and the hot twin guards grabbing Fiona and pushing her out of the way as fast as they could, and the explosion of dirt and flame from the missile hitting, and then…anger.

If I'd taken a second to think, I would have realized that the innate sense of Fiona that I have was still there; she wasn't dead. But I didn't think. I unleashed hell.

Well, that's what they tell me, anyway. I don't remember much except for a feeling of being a lot higher than I must have been, of walking on stilts of lighting and flying on wings of electricity. Of flinging all my anger and bitterness at the impenetrable walls of Barad-dûr, my frustration, and hatred of Sauron and his minions, my loneliness, and the terror that I would face life without my twin beside me. They tell me the sky rained bits of flaming wood for some time after that; I'd blown up all the trebuchets within range.

* * *

I came back to myself in front of Gil-galad. I don't remember how I got there. But it gradually dawned on me that he was asking if I knew where Fiona was. I stared at him incomprehensibly while my mind tried to catch up with what I'd been doing. 

"What?" My mouth felt like I'd been eating cotton balls – and then stuffing the sodden wads in my ears too, because I couldn't hear a damn thing. My skin tingled as the fuzziness slithered up and down my arms, and around my body. The slightest twinge would send it out to zap anything I desired.

"Where is your sister, Minaimîr?" Gil-galad demanded, in full King mode.

"I…" I stopped. I remembered… "…the rock!"

"No, she wasn't there! She was moved. Where is she?"

I felt like I'd been into the wine all day. I tried to focus…Fiona…I could always find her when she hid on me. I could always sense her when she was in danger. Focus!

_Where is your sister, Minaimîr?_ The words echoed in my skull, and seemed to pull the cotton from my brain.

My heartbeat got loud in my ears, and I withdrew into my mind. Energy…I could feel it all around me, the thrum of the air molecules, the pressure of living flesh, the greasy filth of Orcs, the _depth_ of the rocks…past all of that, and down, was the feeling…Fiona…

I'd never consciously done this before. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing, other than that I'd been commanded to find my sister, and at this time and in this place, this was the only way I knew how to look.

My head shot up and I looked towards the hideous structure of Barad-dûr. "They've taken her…!" I started to run, gathering the fuzziness around me, ready to strike…

And then my heart spasmed. Hard.

I doubled over, swearing. Someone was at my side in an instant – Glorfy, thankfully. I straightened up quickly, panting, but the damage was done. My husband wasn't going to be letting me out of his sight for the rest of the battle. No running after my sister for me. The fuzziness vanished; I almost felt empty without it curling around my body – but the slight weight of my child quickly dispelled that feeling.

I turned back to Gil-galad. "They've pulled her towards Sauron's lair, but...she's trapped! Hurry! _She's within range of the tower_!"

I've never seen Elves move that fast. Glorfy and I were deserted in an instant.

Something niggled at the back of my mind. _Why couldn't he find her himself?_ I asked Glorfy via our special channel.

_I don't know, my lovely_, Glorfy answered. _But you must rest now_.

"No!" I cried suddenly. "I can't rest without knowing she's safe, and they might need my help to bring her back!"

"_Melyanna_, the baby…"

I put my hand on my belly, very slightly swollen with the child within. Thankfully, nothing was wrong. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Whatever caused that spasm…would have to wait.

"Precious, you once told me that as long as my abilities were useful and didn't harm the baby, I could participate in this war." Glorfy looked like he was suddenly regretting that decision, but I didn't let him have time to speak. Never mind that if I'd been sent away the baby might not have made it, that if I could not participate I would go stir-crazy. "The baby is _fine_. I'm fine. But Fiona isn't; she needs help, and I seem to have abilities that no one else does. But I don't have time to debate their origin or whether or not I'm using them for the right purpose; _I have to go_."

For a long second, Glorfindel simply looked down at me. And then a wave of love and pride and worry and frustration washed over me down our private link. I offered him a small smile.

"I love you too."

* * *

A/N: I think I should have called this one "When Cliffhangers Attack". Sorry to leave it like that, especially with our recent updating habits (or lack thereof)…it just fit. And Lór asked me to let her write the rescue scene, since it was all her plan :). But she, like I, has a full time job and life to stop her from writing, so…bear with us, just a little longer. You've made it this far, haven't you? 

On a completely unrelated note, these new line-thingies that they've added in are awesome! No more shall our A/N's be confused for story text!


End file.
